


Soldiers Like Us

by smokeandmirrorscloakanddagger



Series: Soldiers Like Us [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Anxiety, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Depression, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Soldiers, Suicidal Thoughts, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-08-21 19:50:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 37
Words: 118,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8258380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smokeandmirrorscloakanddagger/pseuds/smokeandmirrorscloakanddagger
Summary: All Artemis wants to do is run her café. All Bucky wants to do is die.





	1. The Veteran's View

The thing about New York City is that it’s loud. There isn’t hardly ever a peaceful moment and certainly there’s never any quiet. It isn’t like Pittsburgh where just a few steps outside the city rewards you with a sense of harmony. Even in the center of the city you can find a quiet moment, if you’re looking, if you’re interested. It isn’t like the desert which is also loud with silence and billowing wind. A silence sometimes so deep and loud that when the wind kicks up again you’re almost surprised to find you’re still alive. Or even worse when the _poppoppop_ of gunfire wakes you from the deadening silence of the loud quiet. 

Which is worse I can’t say. But I know I’ll always love New York and that the desert will always be my most hated enemy. So, even though I can’t say which is worse I can say with confidence which I would pick every time. Here, at least, you know that you aren’t alone, that it’s only a matter of time before someone walks through the door.

I suppose that’s why we decided to open the café. Both to get people through the door but also to make sure we were never alone, even when one of us had a bad day. We named the place Veteran’s View and housed it in a small corner store across the street from the Veteran’s hospital in NYC where we had decided to take up residence. That we got the place across the street was nothing but a pure miracle. Tommy said that maybe God was finally watching out for us but I knew that it was just a stroke of pure luck, all the luck that we hadn’t managed to snatch up on our Tours. Here it was, finally befalling us, and it was so we could get a good location for a café that was catered to and themed for veterans. Tommy says I’m cynical and that even if it wasn’t God maybe it was just the universe thanking us.

I don’t exactly believe in the Universe either. As a rule I’m not usually cynical but this was a subject, especially with Tommy, that I was allowed to be firm on, nonnegotiable. God doesn’t care and neither does the Universe. I only believe in people and most of the time they’re a pretty poor thing to believe in. Tommy was only fine with it some of the time. He liked to believe that there was a larger plan at play that we just couldn’t see, didn’t understand.

The day we opened the café was also what some people would call resolutely and with confidence, a miracle. Tommy and I didn’t know shit about shit about coffee and so we had to hire on some help, a disaster named Connor, who was an idiot in every sense of the word except for when it came to brewing coffee and roasting beans. Tommy made pastries and had a business degree and I was there mostly because it was my idea and I was exceptional at managing people and facilitating openness, apparently especially when it came to veterans. The day we opened I took over a large batch of coffee and pastries on the house (“Goddamn it, Artemis, we’re not going to make any money if you go giving away free shit the first day we open.”) to the VA where the vets there were so enthusiastic and grateful I knew we would never have to worry about customers. Slowly throughout that day other vets made their way across the street to see what all the fuss was about, having heard about our early morning delivery. Young guys, old guys, broken guys, some very fierce ladies, some wives and some husbands, some widows, and some interesting and exceptionally eccentric guys and ladies all around. It was a good day. They appreciated it, I think, to have a place they knew was just for them, run by someone like them. They could be as cynical and as vulgar and as open as they wanted because these were people that knew, that understood, that had seen, maybe not exactly what they had seen, but something similar.

Some weeks after we opened we had plenty of regulars and more dropping by from curiosity every day. Billy was in the middle of telling me a particularly uncouth story about a woman he had met in France in 1944 when the door to the shop opened. When things slowed down I generally sat with some of the customers who happened to be in the shop. To know them and learn their stories but also to share some of mine if they so happened to want to hear it.

The door clanged open and I turned in my seat to get a look at the person walking in the door. He was tall and broad with dark eyes and a wide smile, a gap between his teeth. I smiled up at him from my place beside Billy. “Morning, soldier.”

“Morning. I heard this place serves good coffee and I came to judge.”

I heave myself out of my seat and nod to Billy letting him know that his story will have to be saved for another day. “Oh boy, we have a judger.” Behind the counter I lean on it, chin in hand and wait while the man looks over the menu.

“I’ll be honest I don’t know shit about coffee,” he admits. A laugh escapes me and he has the good graces to look scandalized. “I thought this was a place of understanding,” he says with mock confusion.

“It is.” I grin at him. “I just don’t know shit about coffee either. Our resident coffee expert is in the back, if you wanna talk to him.”

“Oh no I’m just fine talking to the pretty girl that doesn’t know anything about her business.” He says and waggles his eyebrows at me.

“Mmmm, you’ve come to the wrong place if that’s what you’re looking for.” I smile, stand up straight and hold my hand out, “Artemis Shelby.”

“Now that’s a name to live up to.” He says, taking my hand. “Sam Wilson. And I’ll take a regular to go.”

“And so Mr. Wilson how did you hear about our humble café?” I ask as I move to get his coffee. “Sure I can’t interest you in anything more exotic than a _regular?_ ”

He puts his hand over his heart and pretends to be wounded. “You hurt me, Shelby. And I think you know how everyone hears about this place.” I nod and pour as he drums his fingers against the counter. “You have a lot of pictures. Where’d they come from?” He asks staring up at the walls painted a warm, sun yellow, covered with many, many photos of soldiers. Some of them dated back to the First World War.

“The guys that come in here. Sometimes it’s the family.” I set the Styrofoam cup down on the counter and wave away the cash he attempts to hand me. “First one is free. I think they like to make this place really theirs. Started with Angela though actually. She fought in the Gulf and saw I had me and Tommy’s picture up. She asked if she could bring in some of her own and-,” I shrug and gesture to the picture strewn walls. “It just sorta took off.”

Wilson nods and examines a few more before trying to pay again. “Honestly? Would have definitely ordered something exotic if I knew the first was free,” he smirks as he stuffs the bills back in his pocket and I roll my eyes at him and smile. “But I don’t think you know quite what you’ve done.” He states, taking a sip of coffee without adjusting it in any way, and hums in appreciation of the delicately floral taste. “This is good.”

“It’s one of my favorite roasts personally. What do you mean I don’t know what I’ve done?” I ask furrowing my brows while moving back out from behind the counter and trailing after Wilson as he moves along the wall examining a framed picture of a woman and a man standing in front of a tank.

“Kuwait,” he says nodding at the picture and then turns to me. “I work at the hospital, getting Veterans to do anything is like pulling teeth. Yet,” he gestures around the café, “they all love it here. Unanimously. They tell me they talk here. They tell me you have a good ear and a penchant for making talking and feeling something that’s okay.” I nod in confirmation and cross my arms, unsure if I’m being complimented or reprimanded. “It’s good.” He smiles at me. “It’s a really good thing.”

 

~

 

“Well, well, well look what they cat dragged in.” Tommy shouts over the din as Wilson walks through our door, the overhead bell clanking sharply. Wilson moves deftly through the tables and people, all standing and sitting, talking and shouting and laughing.

He finally makes it to the counter where we’ve just managed to serve everyone in the café, alleviating the line. Sam grins at us and says, “Great plan. Free coffee on the 4th for all Veterans. Really good business model.”

Tommy and I roll our eyes but we know it’s true. We’ve pretty much stretched ourselves as far as we can manage. The café is so full of people there isn’t hardly room to breathe. Conner, in the back, had been on the verge of a breakdown all morning, furiously trying to get all the roasts perfect (“Perfection cannot be rushed, Shelby, it just cannot be. Especially not coffee!”) “I’m pretty sure this is some sort of fire hazard,” Wilson says glancing warily around the small, crowded space.

I ignore him and start to grab a cup to get his regular but he waves me down. Hand on hip I set the cup back down on the stack and glare at him, “Is my free coffee not good enough for you Wilson?” I fight the smile trying to work its way onto my face.  

“No. That’s just not what I’m here for, _Shelby_.” He says and Tommy rolls his eyes at us before heading to help one of the customers waving his hand above his head and good naturedly shouting obscene things at us from across the room, attempting to secure our attention.

I lean forward on the counter and rest my chin in my hand, other hand still fisted on my hip. “Oh yeah? What are you here for then?”

Wilson’s eyes spark and dance as he leans down and takes up the same position as me. His face almost uncomfortably close to mine. “I need a favor.”

“Oh, Wilson, you know I’m not that kinda girl.” He stumbles back with laughter, his whole body shaking and I grin, standing up straight. But almost as sudden as the laughter had come it’s gone and replaced with a serious expression. “Oh, no, c’mon, you can’t have a real favor to ask.” 

“I do. And I wouldn’t ask but I think you can help.”

I sigh and take in Wilson’s unusually serious face contrasting sharply with the laughing, seemingly happy crowd and know I won’t be able to say no. I imagine he used to look like that a lot, in the field.

 

~

 

“So, who are they?” I ask Sam as we cross the street and move toward the Veterans building.

He shrugs and struggles to balance the tray of coffee and pastries I made him carry. I could have carried it myself, actually expertly carried it myself, but its fun to watch him struggle. “Just some guys. They’re having a harder time than usual adjusting to civilian life. Well…one of them is…I…you know what? You’ll see what I mean when you meet them…him.” He grins a little and unease settles within me. Before we had left the café Wilson had warned me of several things. This guy had seen and been through worse than most. He did not speak to anyone but his friend Steve. No one really knows what happened to him.

“You’re kinda freaking me out here, Wilson.”

“Well it’s his birthday so be nice.”

“What?” Sam ignores me and continues walking without another word.

Inside Wilson leads me through several hallways, past meeting rooms and offices and exam rooms, and I realize a little belatedly that we’re heading to the in-patient wards. I check myself trying to calm the anxiety that’s threatening to takeover. I hadn’t been here since…not since Tommy had checked out. I didn’t have a reason to be.

I’m so caught up in the memories that this place induces that I don’t immediately notice Sam hailing someone ahead of us in the hallway. The man turns and sees Sam and smiles, turns back and approaches us. Sam again struggles with the tray as he attempts to balance it and give the man a one armed hug. He’s tall and blond and broad, his blue eyes examining me as he hugs Wilson. A soldier’s distrust and suspicion in his eyes. I smile at him and try to seem at ease, unthreatening, but I’m not used to doing this outside the comfort and safety of the café.  

“Artemis this is one of the guys I was telling you about. Steve this is that coffee girl I was telling you about,” he says as they step away from each other.

“Coffee girl?” I ask, indignantly, jutting my hip out and crossing my arms. “I am much more than just a coffee girl, thank you very much, _Sam_.”  

Sam just makes a face at me and turns back to Steve who is still eying me warily, as though he isn’t sure what to make of me. “You and Barnes wouldn’t come over for free coffee so I brought it to you.” Sam smiles, proud of himself.

Steve just looks stern and says, “You know Bucky can’t-,”

“Can’t and won’t are two different things, Steve.” Sam interrupts firmly. It’s the first time I’ve seen him look like the therapist he is.

I swallow thickly and wonder what’s wrong with this Barnes guy. Steve and Sam have a bit of a stare down before Steve folds and rubs a hand over his eyes. “I know, I know, it’s just-,” he stops himself and looks up. He has dark circles under his eyes.

Sam carefully lays a hand on Steve’s shoulder, “I know.”

 

~

 

Barnes, as it turns out, is missing an arm and sorely bitter about it. But that is something I’m used to, something familiar and so it’s easy to chatter on and hand him coffee (without looking like I’m trying to do so carefully) and talk to Steve even if Barnes looks like he’d like to punch my lights out for making so much racket if only he had the other arm, the only one he has presently, being occupied by a cup. Sam looks on happily and asks Barnes some questions to which he doesn’t reply and, in fact, steadfastly ignores. Sam seems undeterred and unoffended by this behavior and I would bet my own left arm that it was the usual between them. Steve looks anxious as most of this transpires, looking like he wants to tell both me and Sam to leave his friend the hell alone or to at least lower our voices. In truth I’m stress talking and only manage to stop when I realize I’m doing so.

Barnes didn’t shake my hand but drinks my coffee and grudgingly admits that it is excellent. I’m so shocked that he’s speaking to me that a reply doesn’t come fast enough. Steve and Sam are too busy arguing with each other to notice something extraordinary has happened. “The muffin too,” he adds a second later, but doesn’t look up at me and keeps his voice completely emotionless. It reminds me so much of what Tommy used to be like that my heart pangs. I turn away from the man in the bed and walk to the window pretending to examine the view of the street as I count backward from ten. I get to five before Steve says, “Can I talk to you in the hallway?” His voice is razor sharp and taut enough that you could have strung a bow with it. I turn in time to see Sam and Steve heading out of the room, the door clicking shut behind them.

I steel myself and sit in the chair next to Barnes' bed. His hostile attitude hasn’t changed and he glares at me, but still doesn’t make eye contact. I smile, maybe I can get him to talk some. “So, have much fun in here?”

It’s not what he expected me to say and he huffs out a short, surprised laugh. “Yeah, tones.” He doesn’t look at me. He has dark brown hair that hangs to his collarbones and several days’ worth of scruff. The circles under his eyes are worse than Steve’s, a dark bruised, purple color. His skin is very pale and ashen as though he’s been out of the sun for a long time or very sick. Maybe it’s both. Underneath all this he's a handsome man, only the shell of one currently. He startles me by speaking again, “So, what bullshit do you have to say to me about this being worth it?” His eyes are hard and focused on the wall across from his bed, as though he’d like to burn a hole through it.

“What?” I can’t imagine why he would ask _me_ this.

“That’s why Wilson brought you here, right? So you can spew some shit about life being worth living?” He still hasn’t looked at me, his eyes fixed on some point on the wall across from his bed. I look to where he’s staring and try to imagine what he might be seeing, what horrors might be playing on the wall.

I shrug and continue to look at his spot on the wall seeing my own terrors. Taking a risk with honesty, I say, “It’s not.” His eyes snap to me, widening in shock. I don’t look back. “Not most of the time.” It’s quite for a while as we listen to Steve and Sam’s hushed voices in the hall, too low to make out what they’re saying. Barnes is about to say something when I turn my eyes back to him. “Not most of the time. But there are moments, like when it’s just you and your best friend baking in the early morning, or watching the fog roll across the river, or listening to some old man complain about problems long since solved, or getting the last piece of your favorite pie. Right then, in those moments, it’s all worth it, everything.”

Barnes doesn’t say anything for a few moments. Then his eyes meet mine for the first time and I’m shocked by the blueness of them but also the sadness there and the anger, lying side by side. No matter how many times I see it in soldiers, no matter how often I see it in my own reflected eyes; I’ll never get used to the deep unending sadness, anger. “What would you know about being miserable?” He asks. His voice isn’t hostile now, just quiet.

I smile and shake my head. “I’m not saying I know anything about it.”

It’s quiet again and I look at that point on the wall again, letting Barnes observe me without feeling like I knew he was doing it. Minutes pass and I’m afraid I’ve said the wrong thing. But then he says, quietly, “You’re a soldier.” He isn’t asking. It’s just a statement.

“Wilson didn’t tell you?” I ask, brows knitting together. He meets my eyes again very briefly.

“No,” he says harshly, his voice like gravel. I wait for him to say more but he doesn’t. I’m sure now that he won’t say anything else and a few seconds of silence pass again as his sharp ‘no’ hangs in the air. I tuck my hands between my thighs and try not to let the anxiety of the situation overwhelm me. “Why coffee?” His voice is steady and emotionless again as though he really couldn’t give a shit about my answer. He faithfully avoids my gaze again and I wonder why this is so easy in the café and why it’s so hard right now and why, _why_ did he keep speaking to me right when I thought I’d mucked it up for good?

It takes me a second to process the question, make it make sense. I shrug and he meets my gaze head on this time. “We figured…why not coffee, y’know? Coffee is normal.”

Barnes nods and I don’t know if I should say more. “Who’s we?” The walls are a pale calming blue with white crown moldings, the floor is an ugly linoleum that looks as though it could use a scrub. I look back at Barnes. He’s clenching his jaw and his fist, his body giving off tension enough for three stressed interns. The pulse in his neck is thumping hard, sweat beading on his temple. He’s either in pain or he’s having a bit of a panic attack. From what little Wilson told me on the way over here he doesn’t talk to anyone and Steve just left him alone in a room with a complete stranger, practically defenseless. Every survival instinct he had was probably on high alert at the moment. He didn’t _want_ to speak to me, he was trying to distract himself.

I can distract him. Tommy. I can talk about Tommy. “My best friend, Tommy and I. Oh and there’s Conner too but he’s a bit of an eccentric and a bit of a pot head but he makes damn good coffee. He’s the one that does the roasting.”

Barnes is gripping the sheets hard with his hand but he nods. “Me and Steve should do something like that, get away from here.”

Get away from here? Interesting. This is where Tommy and I had ran to. Which meant… “You from around here, Barnes?”

He glares at me or rather somewhere right beside me. “Brooklyn,” he bites out, as though it pains him to let out any personal information. But he tells me, if rather reluctantly.

“I’m from Pittsburgh.” He looks over slowly at me as though I’ve just grown a second head. “My mom still lives there. My brothers are in the military currently and my sister is a lawyer in California, rather the pride of the family I think. You have family?”

He’s quiet for a long time and I’m sure I’ve crossed some sort of line and finally stilled him into silence. Why is this so much easier at the café? I would have had him talking as soon as he walked in if this was the café. But it isn’t, I remind myself, most people come into the café looking for a conversation, this was one forced on Barnes. Then again I wasn’t expecting to have a conversation at all. Maybe Wilson was fucking with me when he said Barnes was mute. This is a place he looks as though he’s ready to die in and a place that holds some of my worst memories. Neither of us are our best or most chatty selves. I wonder desperately where the hell Wilson has gone to.

“I’m told no.”

It’s been so long that for a moment I can’t remember what I asked him. “What do you mean ‘told’ no?”

He glowers over at me. “What Wilson didn’t tell you?” He mimics my question from earlier. “Steve tells me no. That he’s my only family.” He pauses for a few seconds and I wait sensing that he isn’t quite done. “I…lost a…fair amount of my memory. There’s a lot that I don’t know.”     

I nod and lower my head, “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t need pity,” he replies, scathingly.

“I’m not pitying you,” I bite back, head snapping up. “I’m just saying.”

I wait for the silence to stretch out again along with my nerves, but it doesn’t. He sighs out a long breath and curses softly before saying gently, “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean…I know you weren’t. It’s just that people usually are.” He pauses and swallows thickly. “Everyone wants me to talk or trick me into remembering.”

I let the admission lie in the air between us. Steve and Sam are coming back in the room, bickering softly. Quietly, so they don’t hear I say, “I’m not. I’m just here.”


	2. Harder Than It Used To Be

It’s been three days since the coffee shop woman visited Bucky. Every day he’s thought about her and everyday he wishes he had had the good sense to pay attention when Wilson introduced her because then at least he would have her name. He’d ask Steve but Steve seemed so distracted and down lately that he didn’t want to worry his friend. To admit this was just another thing he couldn’t remember only for that crease to appear between Steve’s brows, a frown tugging on his lips would kill Bucky. It’s been three more days of therapy and group sessions and grueling physical therapy and nightmares and strained conversations alongside phantom pain and growing irritation at his own attempts and failures to function like a normal human adult on his own. But there are moments where Bucky is hard pressed to admit that he isn’t glad to be alive. Steve’s laugh, the sunrise out his window, late night T.V., and yeah the last slice of his favorite pie. The girl might have been right about moments but what did it matter when the whole affair of life largely sucked?

He also could do with some of that coffee. He’s never had coffee like that. It was damn good, a perfect roast, and the muffin was almost as good. He’s been craving more of both ever since. The first food stuffs he’s really craved since he’s been in country. Steve is next to him sitting in a hard plastic chair but they aren’t speaking, guilt openly displayed on his friend’s face as he stares at the linoleum floor. Steve wears that expression a lot lately and it’s really starting to grate on him. He knows why, it’s something that he does know, but he won’t mention it to Steve. Bucky sighs and sits up and Steve is immediately on his feet. He waves Steve away and gets up, the ghost of his left arm panging. He winces and tries not to let it show. “I just gotta piss.” He mutters and stumbles to the bathroom. He hears Steve huff in annoyance at his refusal of help but Bucky does have to admit that pissing isn’t nearly as easy as it used to be. A lot of things aren’t as easy as they used to be.

 _But that fucking girl,_ Bucky thinks. He knew he had been rude to her but these days he couldn’t find it in himself most days to _not_ be rude to people. He grits his teeth and attempts to relax so he can just take a piss in peace and go back to lying in that bed and hope that something kills him. _But_. But, but, but. She’s right and he wants to see her again despite his token efforts to drive her away, or at least that’s what he tells himself. Bucky finishes and flushes the toilet a little more violently than needed. Goddamn it. _Goddamn_ _it_. Damn that girl, whoever she was. “Steve?” He calls out and Steve is immediately there, mildly panicked.

“Buck?”

“Could you help me shave?” Bucky looks away so Steve won’t see him flush with embarrassment at needing his friend’s help. He hates that he needs fucking help with anything but, he does. And he’s glad Steve is here, no matter what he might make it seem like.

Steve is looking at him with something like the beginnings of a smile on his face. “Yeah, Bucky, of course.” Steve makes him sit down on the closed toilet and fills the sink with warm water. “Can I ask why the change of heart?” He asks as he waits for the basin to fill. Steve had been trying to get him to shave for a few days now. Something about effort, something about being a person is the reasoning behind upkeep of his appearance. Or something like that. Bucky finds that these tips and advice from therapists are often easily ignored.

“Yeah,” Bucky allows a reluctant, if pained smile to cross his face. “I want to go get some coffee.”

 

~

 

The coffee shop is empty, Bucky realizes with abject horror. It’s fucking empty, no place to hide, no place to avoid the two people behind the counter doing a little jig to a song playing on the overhead stereo as Steve pushes the door open. A bell crashes overhead and Bucky tries to hide his cringe, no way to evade notice now, as if that were an option before. The pair stops dancing and they both grin widely toward their new customers. She turns and stage whispers to the man next to her, Tommy, Bucky would have to guess, “Our coffee is good enough to get even the most stubborn out of bed.”

Steve smiles and pushes Bucky gently forward from where he’s lodged himself in the threshold of the café’s doorway suddenly wishing he hadn’t suggested this little outing despite the positive reactions it had gotten from all the staff. He had assumed he would be able to hide among the café’s crowd. All sources pointed to the café being constantly busy and Bucky had done a lot of eavesdropping on people talking about the café recently. Steve and the coffee girl had really hit it off the other day after he and Sam had come back in the room. The girl had suddenly popped up from her seat and said ‘Happy Birthday!’ like that had been her sole reason for visiting and had just then remembered. Steve had looked both surprised and mildly thankful that someone had wished him a happy birthday. Bucky hadn’t. In all honesty he wasn’t even sure of the month until that very moment. Steve and the lady had then had a rather lively debate about baseball much to Bucky’s dismay as Sam winked at him and raised his eyebrow suggestively, all while covertly pointing to the pair of them behind Steve’s back.

And _now_ Steve was _grinning_ at the girl and Bucky decides this is the worst idea he’s ever had.

“Hey Artemis,” Steve greets her and shoves Bucky a bit more firmly to get him moving. Bucky would have smacked himself in the forehead if not for present company. _Artemis_. How could he have forgotten a name like _Artemis_? “Tommy.” There’s a familiarity to the greetings and Bucky wonders if Steve has been sneaking over for coffee while he sleeps. He feels a certain betrayal both toward Artemis and Steve even though he knows he has no right to feel this way. He was downright rude to Artemis most of the time she’d spent trying to speak with him and Steve probably needed to be away from his morose disposition. Guilt settles in his stomach as he finally moves and assesses the café for the table with the best vantage point, the best view of the room.

He doesn’t say anything to the pair at the counter even though he knows it’s impolite (because he physically fucking _cannot_ make himself) and instead focuses on the task at hand. He knows that no one expects him to say anything anymore anyways. He’s so distracted in fact he doesn’t notice Artemis sliding over to him and leaning across the counter. “It’s generally agreed that the table with the best vantage point is that one.” Bucky nearly jumps out of his skin and curses himself. Looking for the table with the best vantage point but jump-scared by a fucking barista. He tries to convince himself that he didn’t hear her approaching because of the buzz of Tommy and Steve talking but he knows he’s not fooling himself. Leaving the relative safety of the hospital and crossing the open road had his nerves stretched close to snapping. He looks to where she’s pointing, the table next to the large store front window. Plenty of light, close to the door, good view of all points of the room but-, “It’s only the best if you get the chair that’s back to the wall. Otherwise you’re back is completely exposed.” Bucky nods and she smiles. She seems more at ease here and Bucky can feel it too, the calm atmosphere, nothing like the bleached, claustrophobic feel of the hospital.

“So, can I get you anything or did Rogers just come over for another chat?” So Steve had been over then. His friend hears and has the grace to look mildly embarrassed and apologetic. He can’t even really be angry that Steve didn’t mention it to him as everything else that the man has suggested Bucky has violently shot down.

Bucky ignores that strange feeling brewing in his gut and turns fully to Artemis despite putting his back to a wall of windows. He speaks low enough that Steve and Tommy won’t hear him and Artemis has to lean forward a little more to hear what he’s saying. “I…uh…I’ve been craving some of the coffee ever since I tried it.” He was supposed to apologize to her and this is what came out of his mouth.

Bucky shoves down the question at the back of his mind that had been lingering ever since she left his room the other day as she answers him. Why did he give a damn? Enough of one to apologize, at any rate.

“Well it is excellent coffee. A muffin too?” She asks and he nods. “Okay. Go get that table then. Fitzgerald comes in here around five and if you don’t have it before then you won’t get it ‘til eight.”

Steve doesn’t follow him but stays by the counter chatting to Tommy. Bucky’s glad he doesn’t trail after him like a concerned shadow for once until the prospect of actually sitting down comes up. Sitting down, Bucky thinks, should not be this difficult. But people with two arms to balance themselves rarely realize the difficulty of doing so when you only have one. It’s especially hard when you’re still getting used to said armless-ness. He thinks, fuck it, and is about to flop down onto the chair as gracefully as he can which is to say not at all when someone approaches. Artemis is frowning and carrying a large coffee mug and a muffin probably the size of his head.

She sets the cup and plate down and asks, “Would you like help?”

His first reaction is to say something cutting about how he doesn’t _need_ her help. But her voice is warm and smooth and kind and maybe just a touch concerned and well…She didn’t demand it. _Here let me help you._ An insult in and of itself, making him feel like he can’t do something which, strangely enough, is what he gets most often at the hospital. She _asked_. He can say no. Her help isn’t being forced upon him. “If you would,” his voice sounds sharp and borderline mean to his own ears, probably from disuse but maybe because he’s so used to being angry, and he half expects her to turn away and tell him to figure it out himself. She surprises him by holding her hand out gently, palm up, instead of grabbing him which is another thing that people seem to do to him a lot lately which he can’t stand. In fact, he can’t stomach most human contact. He takes her hand grateful for the shred of control she’s offering him by doing so. He let’s go of her hand as soon as humanly possible and nods in grudging thanks.   

Then she does something else that baffles Bucky. She sits down across from him, back to the wide open world and smiles. The fact that she leaves her back so exposed makes him feel vaguely sick, if only because it makes _him_ feel vulnerable. “So, I figured you were an insomniac like the rest of us and could use a large.” She nods to the mug that’s more like a soup bowl. “All you have to do is yell if you want more or if the muffin to coffee ratio isn’t quite right we can remedy that too.”

“Yeah…yeah, thanks.” He nods. “Thanks.” Bucky remembers hazily that he’s supposed to be good with women (at least from what he can remember but maybe he’s just delusional) and all he’s managed to say to this one is two words repeated following an encounter where he knows he was an ass. Come to think of it he was an ass two seconds ago when all she did was offer him help. She’s trying, Bucky realizes, really damn hard to make conversation with him and make him feel comfortable. She’s obviously usually good at it. He rubs his eyes and looks up at her remembering that he had plans. A plan to apologize. A plan to not be an ass. So far he’s failed on both fronts. But Goddamn it if people hadn’t become the worst thing in the world for him. She gives him a slightly strained smile and he darts his eyes away from her. Another thing that used to be easier: eye contact.

He clears his throat when it becomes apparent that he hasn’t chased her away with his rudeness. “I wanted to apologize,” he says and she jumps. Apparently she thought he wouldn’t say anything else. He plows on trying not to think about why she might still be sitting at his table if she thought he wasn’t going to say anything. “I’m sorry about the other day. I was rude.” He pauses then adds, “I was rude just now too so sorry about that as well.”

She smiles and leans forward, “Between you and me a lot of the people I deal with are rude. I’m just usually not so thrown by them.” She cocks her head to the side. “I can usually make them not so rude. But not you. And it concerned me.”

“Concerned you?” He asks as she picks up his muffin and peels the foil away before picking off a bit of cake and popping it in her mouth. Why should she be concerned about him? She didn’t know him. Did she? A swooping feeling passes through him, a feeling of vertigo. Was he supposed to remember her? Did she know him? Did he know her?

She nods. “Yeah. Tommy used to be like that and sometimes it…it got bad.” Artemis pauses, chewing. She passes the muffin to Bucky who sets it back on the plate before tearing off his own piece. “Usually I deal with the lively if a little gruff. You’re gruff without the energy.”

Bucky swallows the muffin which seems to stick in his throat. Still trying to figure out if he knows this woman. “Yeah, well, losing an arm will do that to you I think.”

Bucky didn’t mean for that to come out of his mouth and he’s about to apologize for being a dick _again_ when she laughs. Truly laughs, throwing her head back and letting it float out into the world. Bucky tries to keep a straight face and says, “Losing an arm funny to you?” He smiles then so she knows he isn’t being a dick.

She immediately sobers up before catching his smile. “No, just your tone.” He notices then as he quickly meets her eyes that she doesn’t stare. Most people stare at the place where his arm should be. Sometimes glancing quickly, other times gaping outright. She’s used to it then, he thinks. Someone she knows or maybe some of the other guys, the other vets that hang around this place, were amputees as well. “What happened?”

Bucky’s entire body goes tense. He suddenly wants to flee or make her stop asking. It’s the question he’s gotten over and over and over again since he’s been back. No one will stop asking that stupidly easy sounding question. His pulse accelerates, mind whirling. Someone is saying something, speaking softly, “-Barnes? Hey, Bucky? It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He realizes that he’s stood up and Steve is rushing over. Artemis is still sitting but she looks vaguely frightened as though she wants to be scared but can’t quite bring herself to be.

“Bucky?” Steve looks as though he wants to reach out to his friend but doesn’t know if he should touch him.

“I’m fine. I’m- Steve- I’m fine. Help me sit down would you?” Bucky takes Steve’s arm and sits, Steve taking the chair next to him, worry etched onto his face.

It’s silent and awkward for a few seconds before Artemis opens her mouth to say something when the door opens, the bell clinging sharply. Bucky cringes so openly at the noise that he feels as though he might not ever be able to look anyone in the eye ever again solely because of the embarrassment of that moment.  

Artemis looks worriedly at him as though she cares about him. Steve looks pained and Bucky cannot believe the utter failure of a simple café trip. If there was anything that could have convinced him that this life, his life, was no longer worth it then this was it. When crossing the street made you sick to your stomach for fear of snipers hidden on rooftops, when empty cafés made you worried enough to feel nauseous, when your friend only ever looked at you with guilt and worry and pain, when you couldn’t even function enough to have a simple conversation, when you couldn’t do anything by yourself that you used to be able to do no problem, that’s how you know that life is no longer an investment but a waste of fucking time.

Artemis is staring at him still when he looks away from the tabletop. Her expression no longer holds half felt fear and worry but now resembles something like determination. She turns away and stands up greeting the customers by name, two old Vietnam vets named Darrel and John, her bright smile back in place as though nothing happened.

John actually kisses Artemis on the cheek before turning to Tommy and bellowing, much to Bucky’s discomfort, “Come over here, Thomas, I got somethin’ to show you two kids!” _Lively if a little gruff,_ he thinks bitterly, _and fucking loud._  

Tommy walks from behind the counter grinning, saying, “Old man there can’t be anything in the world you can show me that I haven’t already seen.” He swats at Artemis’s ass with a tea towel playful as he comes to stand next to the two men. It’s then that everything Artemis said makes sense. From the knee down on Tommy’s left leg there’s only a thin bar of metal disappearing into a sneaker. _Tommy used to be like that and sometimes it…it got bad,_ echoes in his head.


	3. Early Morning, Late Coffee

It would be a lie to say that I didn’t think about Barnes nearly every day. It’s been two weeks since he visited the café before I ruined the whole damn thing by asking the one question I knew I wasn’t supposed to ask, _what happened?_ If they wanted you to know what happened they’d bring it up themselves. I knew that better than anyone. Tommy told me not to beat myself up about it, that I knew that Barnes had had it worse than most. I don’t think he realizes that this only makes me feel worse. Because it’s true. Wilson had made it clear that Barnes had had it pretty bad only no one knew quite how bad as he wouldn’t talk to anyone about what happened. Steve knew some details as he had been there for some of it but, of course, those details were confidential.

And so, for two weeks now I had been trying to work up the confidence to go back over to the hospital and talk to Barnes. After I had asked him what happened and the subsequent panic attack that had occurred I could see it in his eyes that he was giving up. Tommy told me it wasn’t my problem but of course it was my problem, if only because I made it my problem. My mission to convince him it is worth it.

“I’ll go over there with you if that’s the issue,” Tommy says from his place at the sink. The café closed half an hour ago, two hours after we were _supposed_ to close, and since then the evening had been nothing but cleanup. I scrub harder at the counter and sigh loudly. “Alright so if that ain’t the issue than what is?” He asks, plopping another cake pan into the sink.

I stop and look over at him, “The issue is that I feel terrible but I hate that fucking hospital. And I think Barnes hates me anyways but I still feel like I should apologize. He apologized to me.” Then again maybe bringing it up again would just make it worse. I sigh loudly again, frustrated because I usually didn’t have this much trouble talking to these guys.

He shrugs, “It isn’t your problem, Artie. None of these guys’ problems are your problem. They gotta work it out themselves.” 

But it feels like my fucking problem. Especially when the look in Barnes eyes was one so similar to what once had been in Tommy’s eyes. The only thing that kept me sane was knowing that Steve was nearly always there with Barnes, that he was hardly ever alone. I finish scrubbing the counter and don’t say anything more to Tommy. It’s nearing one in the morning when we finally finish and make out way to the back rooms of the shop where there’s a staircase that leads up to the second floor where there are two very small apartments, both studios. Tommy holds onto my arm and we make out slow way up. It isn’t a long staircase but boy if it doesn’t feel like it some nights.

“Sorry,” he whispers to me half way up, when he has to stop for a breather, “It’s just the pain has been-,”

“I know,” I say, patting his arm, “its okay.”

When we make it to the top of the stairs Tommy abruptly hugs me. “I don’t know what I’d do without you most days,” he says. After a pause he says, “It ain’t your problem but if you make it your problem be careful.”

I squeeze him back and he pulls back from me but keeps his hands braced on my shoulders. “I promise.”

“Artie,” he makes me look him in the eyes, hands clasped tightly on my shoulders, “It isn’t me. It’s Barnes. It isn’t me.” He turns and goes into his apartment, leaving me there on the landing in the dark.

 

~

 

Several hours later after tossing and turning for hours on end I sit up in bed convinced I won’t be able to sleep at all tonight. The alarm clock reads 4:32 AM and I groan. Partly because of the time but also because I have an idea. I throw on a pair of jeans and an old t-shirt of Tommy’s before I head downstairs and stuff my feet into boots. I quickly brew some coffee and throw a couple of yesterday’s bagels into a paper bag and head out.

 

~

 

All the lights in Barnes’ room are on and Steve is nowhere to be found, not that I expected him to be there at five in the morning. The guy had to go home sometime. The TV is off and Bucky’s lying fully back, staring at the ceiling. He looks worse. The circles under his eyes darker, his scruff having made a reappearance, hair unwashed, and _thin_. He’s so thin. I stand in the open doorway and wonder if maybe I shouldn’t have brought coffee. The guy looks like he could use all the sleep he can get. I bite the bullet and clear my throat, alerting him to my presence.  

He turns his head slowly, letting me know he knew I was there the whole time, and his eyebrows jump up his forehead in surprise. He struggles to sit up as I come and sit down in the chair next to his bed I’m sure Steve usually occupies. “I thought you were that nurse again, fucking Sharon hardly ever leaves me alone when she’s on call.”

“She’s nice.” I had just talked to the bubbly blonde at the nurses’ station.

“Clearly not suspicious enough if she let you back here.”

The two times I’ve talked with Bucky he’s never said so many words at one time, or with such quick comebacks. “I never said she was suspicious, just nice. Clearly sharper at night than you are during the day, Barnes.”

He just stares at me for a few seconds before his eyes drift down to the bag in my hands. “What do you have there?” For once he isn’t whispering when speaking to me. I can only assume it’s because of the general deserted feel of the place at night.   

“Coffee and bagels, if you’re interested,” I say and wonder at his mood a little as I make my peace offering. He’s not cheerful, exactly, more like awake, certainly more at ease.

“Isn’t it a little late for coffee?”

“Don’t you mean early?”

“It’s only early if you’ve been to sleep.”

I smile, “Touché.” Out of the small canvas bag I carry I pull two chipped mugs, a thermos of coffee, the paper bag of bagels, and a container of cream cheese. I set all of these on the wheeled food tray and lower it to a suitable level between the two of us. “I have plain, sesame seed, and asiago. Didn’t know which kind you would prefer.”

He hums and looks inside the bag. Only the minute wrinkling of his nose alerts me to his disgust as he asks, “Does anyone actually like sesame seed?”

“Probably not but they sell,” I laugh. We both pick plain and decide to split it between the two of us. I try to give him the whole thing but he won’t hear anything about it.

“I probably won’t be able to eat the whole thing anyways,” he claims. His declaration of not being able to finish a bagel worries me but I keep it to myself afraid of provoking him out of his seemingly good mood. Barnes is decidedly more talkative today as I ask him about cream cheese and whether he wants any or not. Apparently a bagel without cream cheese is ‘an atrocity’. So, I spread the cream cheese and pass him his half then start on mine.

“Can’t sleep?”

“More like I just don’t anymore,” he says and I narrow my eyes at him.

“Considering not giving you any of this coffee now.” He raises his brows at my threat.

“Well clearly you don’t sleep either,” he accuses. “Or you wouldn’t be here right now.”

I shrug, “Yeah but it’s my coffee. And honestly? You look like shit.”

He doesn’t seem offended at my blunt assessment. “Yeah…yeah, Steve keeps telling me that,” he says, biting into his bagel. I narrow my eyes at him again. Steve doesn’t seem like the type of guy to be telling people they look like shit. “Okay, yeah, maybe he doesn’t _say_ it,” he hedges. He looks down at the bagel in his hand and then back at me. “I thought I finally ran you off.”

“Were you trying to?” The mugs are cheerful colors, a bright red and yellow. Both are worn from use and age. Tommy and I found them in an out of the way thrift shop and figured they were as good as anything. I pour coffee from the thermos into both of them now, the woodsy, hearty fragrance filling the small room.

“This one smells different,” he says instead of answering my question.

“Different roast. Darker. Which on reflection was probably a bad choice but I haven’t slept tonight either and it’s my favorite for when I don’t sleep.” From the canvas bag I pull a few creams and packets of sugar.

He’s quiet for a few minutes while he attempts to fix his coffee one handed, eventually asking sheepishly if I would help him. I catch a bit of a blush on his face. “I wasn’t actively trying you know.”

“Actively trying to what?” I slide his cup toward him, the sunshine yellow one.

“Run you off.” He picks up the mug and sips his coffee, scrunches his nose just the tiniest bit. It’s actually adorable and I hate myself for thinking so. Maybe I only think so because it’s a break from his usually emotionless countenance. “I don’t exactly trust people. Not anymore. And Wilson was the one introducing you so I figured…It doesn’t matter. Then I tried to apologize and function normally and that turned out to be a disaster so I figured after that day you’d have decided that was enough.”

“Mmmm.”

“So, I was sort of trying to run you off but not entirely,” he finishes. He squints into his cup, “That came out wrong. What I mean is-,”

“Barnes,” I interrupt. He looks flustered and makes quick eye contact before glancing away again. “I know what you mean. It’s okay.” He nods without looking up from his hand where his coffee is now sloshing in the cup as his hand shakes. I reach over and gently take the cup placing it back on the table.

“You do this for every person who comes in your café?” His voice is self-deprecating and a bit embarrassed.

“Only you.”

“Because I remind you of Tommy.”

“Yes.” There was no use in denying it. Bucky had seen Tommy’s leg that day at the café. What he didn’t know was that wasn’t the reason I was here, the reason I was so concerned.

His voice suddenly takes the slightly sneering tone from the other day, “So, you have a thing for-,”

“Don’t do that.” I say sharply. “Don’t. Tommy is my best friend whom I very nearly lost because he couldn’t see the light. I don’t want Steve to come into my café one day and tell me something preventable happened to his friend.”

He looks up at me, shock written across his face. He narrows his eyes at me, “You read me that easily?” His tone is sharp and clipped now and I wonder how this has happened _again_.

“It’s not hard. You told me as much the day I met you.”

“You don’t know me. You don’t know what they did to me, what happened to me.” _What they did to him?_ What could he mean by that? My mind distantly supplies what my conscious self doesn’t want to accept. Captured. Prisoner of War. Or maybe not. Some of the guys often talk about the Army that way. Saying ‘they’ instead of what they really mean. A lot of them talked that way about war, like it was something done to them.

In an attempt to calm the shaking in his hand Barnes had laid it flat on the table in front of him. He was staring at it as if trying to will it into stillness. I lay mine very gently on top of his now so he’ll look at me. He jerks his hand back and stares and I scold myself silently. I know better than to do that.

“Barnes? You’re right. I don’t know you. I’m sorry.”

There’s another long silence that I’m coming to associate with conversations with Barnes. I take a few bites of bagel and sip my coffee trying to decide if this is his silent way of letting me know it’s time for me to go. Then, “Bucky.”

“What?”

“Bucky. If we’re going to get to know each other you should know to call me Bucky.” He swallows thickly and continues, “You’re right you know. After what happened. I don’t…It’s hard to ‘see the light’ as you put it. Really the only thing, the only _reason_ …is…is Steve. Really. I worry he would think it’s his fault. But I can’t stop thinking about what you said the other day. About the moments.” His voice is choppy and rough with emotion. “I try to find three moments each day but most days I can’t find one.”

I blink back the tears in my eyes and open my mouth to respond to him when there’s a sharp knock on the door before its flung open. Bucky’s arm shoots out as if to block me from whoever knocked, whatever danger that knock may pose. I’m both shocked and surprised at the gesture but standing in the doorway is only the nurse, Sharon. Barnes huffs out a very quiet, annoyed sound and lowers his arm, glancing over at me with half-concealed embarrassment.  

“Good Morning Mr. Barnes!” Her cheerful voice resounds through the room and Bucky curses softly under his breath at her sunny disposition, too low for her to hear. I glance down at my phone to realize it’s nearly six-thirty. The café would be opening in half an hour.

Bucky doesn’t reply to Sharon, not that either of us expected him to. In fact, he resolutely ignores her. He stares at the opposite wall similar to the day I met him. I clear my throat, “Good Morning, Sharon.”

Sharon nods and bounces over and begins taking various vitals. Blood pressure. Temperature. Weight from a scale within the bed. “I’m surprised you’re still here Ms. Shelby. I thought you were just dropping some things off.” Yeah, I had made it sound that way when I stopped by the nurses’ station. It wasn’t exactly visitor’s hours after all. Bucky glances sideways at me and I wink while Sharon’s back is turned entering Bucky’s readings into a computer in the corner of the room. It earns me a small grin from him.

“Well Bucky was awake and I was starved for conversation.”

Sharon turns, a small frown on her face, “Oh?”

“Yeah. But I do have to be going. The café opens up at seven.” I stand from the chair and turn to Bucky. “You can give Steve the rest of the bagels when he gets here. Just have him drop off my mugs and thermos at some point. I’m not too worried about it.” Bucky nods and smiles a tiny smile again where Sharon can’t see. “Maybe you could come over again. If your feeling up to it.”

Sharon is frowning at me as I leave Barnes’s room and I only just manage to keep the smile off of my face.


	4. Choice and Suffering

“He was talking to her!” Sharon says exasperatedly. Peggy just shakes her head, dark curls flying. “You can’t tell me you aren’t surprised! He doesn’t say anything to anyone except Steve.” Peggy just shakes her head again and pops another fry into her mouth. Honestly, some days Peggy didn’t know what to make of her cousin.

They were sitting in the employee lounge currently having lunch but also expecting to be interrupted at any moment with some sort of emergency, a nurse’s working hazard. “He was bound to talk to someone else. Wilson says he talks around him.”

“Talking around someone and talking _to_ them is two different things, Peg!” Sharon stabs her fork into her salad, emphasizing the end of her sentence.

Peggy sighs and rolls her eyes, “I just don’t see why you’re so bothered.”

Sharon just makes a soft noise of discontent before returning to her salad. She thinks on it a few seconds before returning her attention to the woman beside her. “I’m _bothered_ because it’s a puzzle. What did she say to get him to speak to her?”

“Maybe she didn’t say anything at all,” Peggy says and Sharon glares at her English cousin.

Sharon and Peggy had grown up both as close as sisters and as distant as distant relatives could be. They had both bounced back and forth between England and America during the summers of their youth and dreaded the rest of the year when they were doomed to separation. So, when the chance to work and live together in New York City arose neither of them could turn the opportunity down.

Peggy often had the opinion that Sharon was concerned with frivolous things. Although both women were strong, independent, and focused, Sharon had the tendency to be concerned with things that, well, didn’t really concern her.

“I’m just curious.”

“Maybe you should ask, then,” Peggy suggests, stuffing the rest of her fries back into their paper bag before tossing the whole thing in the trash. “There’s no use worrying over it when you could clear the whole thing up.”

Sharon just groans, convinced Peggy just isn’t getting it. What exactly _it_ was Sharon couldn’t even say. Peggy begins to reapply red lipstick that smudged off while she was eating thinking the matter resolved when, “She didn’t even think it was odd that he was talking to her. Do you think she knows? That he doesn’t talk?”

Peggy sighs and throws her lipstick back into her bag before standing, “I don’t know, Share, all you have to do is ask her or maybe Steve. I’m going back to the station. Are you finished?” She asks, effectively ending the conversation. Sharon just sighs and stands. Maybe she _is_ the only one who finds it odd.

 

~

 

“So….why Artemis?”

Steve won’t leave him alone about Artemis. Apparently the whole damn staff on his floor had nothing better to do than guess why the mute freak decided to talk to the coffee shop veteran. It all started a few days ago when Sharon came by, bubbly as ever, and brought it up to Steve. Apparently she was curious. Bucky had mentioned to Steve that Artemis had been over, had mentioned that she talked to him and that she requested Steve bring back her thermos and mugs. Bucky had not mentioned that he had spoken back.

The day Bucky had met Artemis, Steve and Sam had been too busy arguing and then shuffling into the hallway to notice that Bucky had said a few words to her while they were in the room. Steve had also been too absorbed at the café talking to Tommy that day to notice that Bucky had spoken to her then too. Bucky was regretting having started talking to anyone but Steve as people left him alone even less now, curious what made him start talking. Bucky on the other hand thought it was abundantly clear why he talked to her. She was a comfortable presence, she made it a little easier to breathe but at the same time she wasn’t afraid to push back at his bad moods. It made him feel normal, like a person. But these things aren’t always easy to put into words and say out loud.

Bucky shrugs now in response to Steve’s question, refusing at this point to talk even to Steve if people were going to harass him about it. It made him nervous, their curiosity, like he was a bug under a microscope and God knew he had spent more than enough time feeling like that.    

Artemis had made two more trips over to the hospital in the wee hours of the morning, deftly avoiding Sharon both times who tended to work the very early morning shifts. Both times she had brought coffee, a different roast to the dark, rich stuff of the first time for something lighter and more floral and earthy. How she had realized he didn’t like the really dark coffee he couldn’t begin to guess. He did his best to keep his features a mask of emotionlessness in the presence of others. She had switched out the bagels for bear claws one night and cherry pastries the other. Both of these nights they had avoided dark topics. And somehow, somehow during those times he had forgotten just for those few hours who he was and where he was and why he was there. He felt _normal_ , as normal as he could feel anyways. Bucky was now coming to expect her visits and was sorely disappointed when she didn’t show.

“Well I’m glad you’re talking to someone at least,” Steve smiles at him. “Artemis is a good person.” He frowns when Bucky doesn’t say anything, in fact avoids looking at him at all. “Buck? Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.”

Bucky looks over to Steve and lets out a slow breath. He smiles and he’s sure it probably looks pained. Steve frowns and he _knows_ it looks pained. Steve worries about him all the time because he’s lost weight again when he was doing so well at first in regaining it, because he was doing so well with physical therapy and now he’s not, because he’s stopped watching television and reading trying to catch up on what he’s missed, what he doesn’t remember. Steve worries about him because he doesn’t sleep and eating makes him sick and touch makes him want to die. Talking is by far the easiest thing he has to do and it’s still so hard. And he’d like to keep that fact private but nothing at this fucking hospital is.  

And so what if he talks only to Steve? So what if he only wants to talk to Steve and Artemis? That’s _his_ choice. And he’ll be damned if he lets these doctors and nurses and psychiatrists and therapists take his choice away from him.

So, he lets the pained smile slide off his face and he whispers to his only friend, his best friend, the person he nearly died for, “It’s my choice, Steve.”

And Steve stares back, sees the pain and the truth and the defiance and says, “It is. I won’t ask about it again.”

Bucky nods and lies back and closes his eyes and hopes that when death finally takes him Steve will be able to heal. 

 

~

 

Steve knows that Bucky is pretending to sleep, that he has been for several hours when someone knocks on the door. Bucky’s entire body goes rigid and he immediately drops the façade of sleep, struggling into a sitting position. The door cracks open and Artemis sticks her head in, smile plastered to her face. “Everyone decent?”

Bucky relaxes and waves her in. “Brought coffee?”

“Not now, dear, it’s the middle of the day. Coffee is stuff of the night,” she quips and sits in the chair next to Steve. Steve glances over at her as she brings her feet to rest on the chair and wraps her arms around her legs, resting her chin on her knees.

“That’s a disappointment. I’ve been meaning to come by for some. You could have saved me the trip.”

“You should come over sometime Rogers. We miss you, y’know?” She inhales deeply in his direction, “The coffee misses you and you miss the coffee. I can smell it on your soul.” Bucky doesn’t know how to feel about this assertion to his friend or the fact that she sniffed Steve while saying so.

Steve lets out a laugh, “ _Smell_ it? On my _soul_?”

She nods and pokes him in the shoulder, “Yep.” Artemis has dark circles under her eyes that she doesn’t attempt to conceal. Most days she looks as if she sleeps as little as Bucky, probably less now that she was sneaking over some days to visit with him. “Sorry about the coffee Buck but we ran out of your favorite. Connor was and still is scandalized that I forgot to tell him we were running low and he needs time for a perfect roast, blah, blah, blah. I got reamed out,” she says drolly.

 Bucky frowns at her, glances at Steve then back to Artemis and asks, “He yelled at you?” He tries to keep his tone flavorless but he can hear the worry in his own voice. Artemis doesn’t seem to notice.

“Hmmm? No. No, he just usually has a lot to say and I don’t listen much so it was my fault. He’s always going on about something that’s happened online and I feel like a grandmother listening to him so I stopped. And so when he told me to warn him because he wouldn’t be checking himself I didn’t hear him.” She shrugs her shoulders and lets her legs down from the chair. “I came over to ask you if you saw the game last night,” she says to Steve, leaning toward him, hands on her knees. And just like that they’re off, chattering endlessly about the game. Bucky sits quietly and listens to them have the mundane but excitable conversation and wishes that he didn’t have to. He wishes that he didn’t have to listen or could join in. But he had refused to watch the baseball game with Steve last night in favor of wandering the hospital halls and glaring at anyone that looked at him. He zones out letting the guilt of having refused Steve in a chance at doing something normal together wash over him. And his irritation at having nothing to contribute to the conversation with Artemis because of his refusal.

“We should go together sometime, Rogers.” And boy if _that_ didn’t bring Bucky back into the conversation he didn’t know what would. “I haven’t been to a baseball game in years.” Artemis is smiling widely at Steve entertaining the idea of doing something enjoyable together. Steve notices Bucky tense up and glare over at Artemis as though she’s just said something horrible.

“You okay, Bucky?” Steve asks and he nods curtly. Artemis is staring worriedly at him and Bucky wants to sink into the floor. He knows he’s causing a scene, knows he seems insolent, but he can’t stop it. She says something to him but Bucky can’t make himself hear it, the buzzing in his ears too loud. Once he would have known what to say, how to say it, to diffuse the situation but now he was as good as worthless.   

They pick the conversation back up when they realize he won’t say anything else, both accustomed to his frequent icy silences. What they probably don’t realize is that he _can’t_ say anything else, the anxiety filling his chest won’t allow it. He’s left with his thoughts. Because on top of everything else it makes sense. Of course, _of_ _course_ who would want to talk to him when Steve was sitting there? Steve who was nice and gentlemanly in a way that did not befit modern times, who was handsome and tall and strong and who could eat and be touched and not want to hurl himself out a window because of it. It was why Bucky was silently glad that Artemis visited him whenever Steve wasn’t there. Sure, in his mind, that she would prefer to talk to Steve.  

Bucky thinks that the day can’t get any worse because on top of his feeling of inadequacy and uncalled for possessiveness over a woman he barely knows; his phantom limb has been twanging horribly all day and the voice in his head that sounds eerily like he should know who it is whispering horrible things is louder than usual. But then the door opens and Sam and Sharon waltz in, their voices loud and intrusive, and he’s reminded of something he’s always known: things can always get worse.

 

~

 

Later when it’s quiet and dark in his room and Bucky has convinced Steve to go home and get some sleep and Sharon and Sam have left him the hell alone again the door cracks open and Artemis sneaks back in. Bucky tries not to look shocked that she came back or gawk too much at the sight of her in her nightclothes even though it’s just a huge t-shirt and linen sleeping pants. She sits in Steve’s chair which is closer to the bed and brings out the canvas bag stocked with coffee and chocolate éclairs. She whispers, “I didn’t want to share earlier.” And Bucky is sure that he’s never felt joy before that very moment.

She doesn’t turn on the lights and they eat and drink in companionable silence. _Maybe_ , Bucky thinks as he bites into the warm éclair, _maybe things can get better too_.  

 

~

 

Bucky isn’t sure if Artemis has fallen asleep or not and is debating getting up to turn the light on and tuck a blanket around her when her voice floats lazily though the air, “Bucky?”

“Hmm?”

“What the hell is Bucky short for?” She asks. His laugh is sudden but not loud and Artemis grins into the dark where he’s just able to make out the smile on her face.

“Buchanan,” he says, a hint of laughter in his voice.

“ _Buchanan?_ ” She asks indignantly. “I’ve been talking to a person called _Buchanan_ this entire time and didn’t know?” She huffs out a laugh. He sees her shake her head and whisper, “ _Buchanan_ ,” under her breath.

Bucky is proud, _proud_ and cannot place why he is that he made her laugh. Maybe it was just a change from the frown he usually put on her face. “Well, it’s my middle name.”

“Oh? What’s your first name then?”

“James.”

“Well that’s just boring in comparison.” It’s quiet for a heartbeat and Bucky panics for a moment that he’ll let the silence stretch out too long like he always does. “I do think Bucky suits you the best though. Barnes, and James, and Buchanan just don’t have the same effect.”

“What effect is that?” He’s genuinely curious.

She shrugs, “The Bucky effect.” He doesn’t have time to contemplate what she means by this as she gets up and his heart jumps in his chest, thinking she might be on her way out. “Can I turn on the light?”

His heart calms and his cheeks warm, “Whatever you want.”    

The bedside light flicks on and then the TV, the volume kept low. The room, filled with a soft yellow light rather than the light of the harsh overhead lights, suddenly seems a lot cozier. “Something to be grateful for: nice lighting.” She smiles and sits back down. Bucky frowns at her wondering how nice lighting could be something to be grateful for.

He decides not to respond and instead asks her if she’d like a blanket. She just frowns back at him, disapproving. “Don’t try and deflect me.” Artemis rubs her arms, “I’ll take that blanket though.”

He hands her a blanket careful to avoid brushing her fingers. “I just don’t get how lighting could be something to be grateful for, a reason to be glad to be alive,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck.

She hums and sits back in her chair. “Well, it makes _me_ happy. It’s warm and yellow and soft. You can’t tell me you don’t notice the difference between harsh overhead and this light,” she says and gestures around. “And lighting is important. I bet if you asked Steve he would say the same thing, being an artist and all, light is very important.”

Bucky hadn’t thought about it that way and doesn’t ask how Artemis knows Steve is an artist, thinking he probably won’t like the answer. Although, the importance of something wasn’t the same as being a reason to live. He tells her as much and she tips her head to the side, pouring herself some more coffee from the thermos. “But maybe the importance of a thing lends to the thing that is the reason to live.”

“How?”

“Take my arty Stevie example. Maybe lighting doesn’t make Steve happy or glad to be alive but it’s important because it lends to his art, something he lives for, something that makes him happy. Therefore the light is just as important as the art because it helps create the art.”

“That’s a complicated, bullshit analogy and you know it,” he laughs. She smiles at him for a few seconds without looking away and he can’t figure out why.

She shakes her head and looks down, blushing slightly, “And here I thought we were having a moment, Barnes,” she says drolly, lifting her head, and smiles at him over the rim of her cup. “One day I’ll convince you.”

“I think you just like to annoy soldiers.” He says, “You’re almost completely fulla shit you know that?”

“That’s true.” Her smile fades a little and Bucky can _see_ the thousand-yard stare creep into her eyes.

“Artemis?” He’s afraid she might be slipping away to that dark place he knows so well.

She shakes herself a little and forces a smile back onto her face, “I’m here Bucky.”

And Bucky feels like the worst, most selfish person in the world as he doesn’t ask why the stare crept into her eyes even though she would have asked him. Because he needs her to be here. He needs her to be the person that is okay, her and Steve both.

She clicks her fingers at him suddenly, making him jump. “I got it! Why don’t you and Steve do some of the new age hippy therapy together?”

He just stares at her, “What?” The sudden change in her demeanor has his head spinning.

“I’m not discounting it or anything. I think it can be really helpful. Maybe it could be helpful to you both y’know?”

“What are you _talking_ about?”

“Art therapy,” she says nonchalantly and fixes her eyes on the television in the corner. She makes a face as she sips her coffee and sets it aside. “Cold.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Wilson already suggested it. I already said no.”

She glares at him, “I’m not Sam. And I’m asking you to consider it. As a friend and as a favor to Steve.”

He glances sideways at her. She’s staring up at the TV, a distant look in her eyes. He wonders briefly what she’s thinking about. He means to ask her but instead, “Steve doesn’t need therapy,” comes out of his mouth.

Her eyes are shocked for a moment and then she levels him with a hard stare, “You and I both know that isn’t true.” Her voice is uncharacteristically harsh and Bucky knows he’s messed up.

“I’m no good at art,” he means it as a joke, to lighten the mood but Artemis is suddenly in no frame of mind to be joked with.

“Never said you had to be,” her voice is sharp. “You are not the only person allowed to be going through some shit, _Buchanan_. It’s high time you realize your friend is suffering too.”

“I know,” he says, ducking his head. “I know.”

“Then start acting like it. Steve needs you even if he pretends to be fine all the time.” It’s silent for a minute before she sighs, “Look I didn’t mean to yell at you. I know sometimes it’s easier to pretend they’re okay but it just isn’t the case most of the time. I just think it’s important that you two take care of each other. You went through some shit together. You should have the chance to fix it together.”

He knows she’s right and so all he does is nod, making a mental note to talk to Steve first thing. Steve deserves a chance to get better and maybe so does he.  


	5. Progress Art

“Thanks for doing this,” Steve says as we enter the foyer of the Museum of Modern Art. He holds the door open for me before leading us over to the ticket counter. “Really, it means a lot-,”

“I needed a break from the café anyways,” I shrug and loop my arm through his as we wait in line. “And besides I can’t remember the last time I went to an art museum.”

He smiles at me, “I’m glad I could take you then.”

“Just one question,” I ask as we step toward the ticket counter.  

“What’s that?” He asks, handing the ticket guy some cash.

“Why didn’t you ask Peggy?” His face immediately turns beet red. As we walk away from the counter he rubs the back of his neck with his other hand, ducking his head sheepishly. He passes me the tickets as a keepsake.  

“That obvious huh?”

“Oh yeah.” He groans and I laugh as we enter the first gallery.

“Ah well…I didn’t think that she’d say yes or have time or…well any number of things. I wanted to talk to you about something anyways.”

“Oh I see this is all just a ploy to corner me about something so I can’t make a scene,” I say, letting go of his arm to examine a painting. “I don’t actually know anything about art.”

“I can tell by the way you squint at it,” he pokes me in the side, smiling.

“I did not squint!” I exclaim resentfully. “I was thoughtfully inspecting.”

He laughs and comes to stand next to me, “Maybe just a little.” We stand shoulder to shoulder for a moment before Steve says, “I thought this was an appropriate place to thank you.”

My brow furrows, “Thank me?”

“I don’t know how you got Bucky to go to a form of therapy _and_ actually participate in it, let alone go to it with me, but I’ll forever be infinitely grateful.”

Blood rushes into my cheeks at the praise and I have to look away from Steve to hide it but I know he’s seen. “He would have come around himself.”

“I’m not sure he would have.” I glance up but Steve is determinedly looking away from me, anywhere but my eyes. “He’s come around a lot more since you started visiting. I…I didn’t know what to do. How to help and he wouldn’t talk to anyone else and then you showed up.” He blows out a long breath as we start walking around the gallery again. I carefully put my arm back though his and pat his bicep with my other hand in what I hope is a comforting gesture. “You showed up and you weren’t deterred. He’s…still not himself but he’s getting better. We watched a movie together yesterday. He started running on the treadmill at the hospital and that…that isn’t behavior of someone who’s _sure_ they’re ready to check out y’know?”

Check out, what a gentle way to phrase suicide. “He still needs to talk to someone,” I counter, unwilling to accept that things will just continue to get better as they are.

“He talks to me…and you.”

“We aren’t therapists.”

“No,” he agrees, “We’re not.” It’s quiet for a while as we traipse around the museum. We pause where Steve wants to as I have no idea what I’m looking at. Steve tries explaining the significance of certain color choices or which styles of art are which but it’s mostly lost on me. I do point out which ones I like to Steve who then takes up roll of art teacher asking me _why_ I like them. To which my answer is mostly: _dunno Stevie, just like the way they look_. Which makes Steve laugh which makes my being an idiot about art worth it.

After an hour of being dragged around the museum as I hold on to Steve’s arm I finally muster the courage to ask Steve something. “Have you two always been friends?”

“Hmm?”

“You and Bucky?” I squint at the piece in front of us before I catch myself squinting and try to force my face into a more intelligent expression.

“Oh yeah grew up together, went to school together, joined up together.” He shrugs as we move to a different piece again, “Always just been me and Bucky.”

“Don’t either of you have family?” He shakes his head in answer but doesn’t elaborate. “Why’d you join up?”

He laughs. It’s bitter sounding and doesn’t seem right coming from Steve’s mouth. “Wouldn’t ya know it we didn’t know what else to do? We figured we’d see the world, do our civic duty, and come home and things would be the same.” He shakes his head, “Neither of us expected we’d be any good at it. Certainly not Bucky. I was the one that convinced him to enlist.”

I mentally stomp on my curiosity about that last bit and ask instead, “Were you an officer?”

“Captain.”

“And Bucky?”

“Sergeant. A sniper. A damn good one at that.” He says regretfully.

“Shit.” He only nods in response.  

“I was there you know, when he lost the arm.” I stay quiet, our footsteps echoing on the tile flooring. “He was saving my ass as usual. And then I couldn’t even help him. They took him and I couldn’t do anything to stop it.”

I tramp down on the immediate inquisitiveness that arises in me. Were they on a mission or a patrol? Was it a bomb blast? Were they traveling? An IED? How did Bucky save his ass? Who took Bucky? Why couldn’t Steve get to him? But one can’t ask these questions easily.

So, instead I say, “So he _is_ a POW.”

“How the hell did you guess that?”

“Somethin’ he let slip once. A turn of phrase.” I pause, “Plus you pretty much just told me.”

He sighs, “Yeah, I guess I did.” He covers my hand that’s still resting on his bicep with his own. “Thanks for being here for us, Artie.”

“I’m always here. For both of you.” It seems like that’s the only thing I’m good for anyways.

 

~

 

Later when Steve is done making his twentieth loop of the museum I make him stop in the gift shop. He groans good-naturedly and I punch him in the arm. “Like I didn’t just spend my whole day looking at that trash.”

“If its trash then why do you wanna go in the gift shop?”

“Don’t logic me, Rogers.”

After browsing through the shop for a few minutes I finally find what I’m looking for, Steve trailing along patiently behind me. “Ah ha!” I pull out one of the prints and hold it out for Steve to see. “What do you think?”

“About the piece or about the fact that you want to buy the print?”

“When did you get so sassy?” I playfully glare at him, “It’s for Bucky.” I hesitate, “Think he’ll like it? You should pick something I mean you know him better-,”

“Artie.”

“What?”

“He’ll love it. If for no other reason than you thought to get it for him.”

 

~

 

“Starry Night? You couldn’t have gotten me something less cliché than Starry Night?” Bucky asks, staring at the print I just unceremoniously dumped in his lap.

“Yep. You can ask Steve I’m not very art educated. But I know this one is good.”

“I can vouch for that,” Steve says from his place in the doorway, arms crossed, smile threatening to slip onto his face.

“Neither am I,” Bucky says drolly but the sides of his mouth twitch up and I know he loves it. He looks over at me meeting my eyes, “Thank you,” his voice is so sincere that my heart gives a painful thump in response. “Really, Artie, thanks.” I can’t help but think maybe he isn’t just talking about the painting.

I have to look away from him. “No problem, Buck.”   


	6. Memory Faults

Artemis comes over to visit Bucky nearly every day she has the chance. It’s always very early morning and she always comes armed with something to eat and some of Bucky’s favorite coffee. After the first morning that she visited she always arrives with the coffee made exactly how Bucky takes it. He worried a bit in the beginning that this was some sort of elaborate ploy to get him to speak about his past, what happened to him. But after the fifth night and still no mention of his past or his current mental state he starts to relax, convincing himself that Artemis comes to visit because she wants to, because she enjoys his company. But that can’t be it, Bucky often thinks. Who would want to visit him? A broken, depressive soldier? After two months of nightly visits however he’s hard pressed to find another reason she might visit. Pity? A favor to Wilson? Bucky however finds that he doesn’t care about the reason so long as she shows up. And then of course there’s Starry Night hung up on the wall across from his bed, another mystery.   

So, here he finds himself, sitting up in a chair by the table near his window, waiting for this woman and wondering what sort of pastry she’s bringing today. Over the last two months the two of them had become close, comfortable and companionable. In fact Bucky had come to trust her. So he opened up to her, not much but some.

He had tried sleeping, he really had, but nothing could make him fall into that sort of vulnerability tonight. He’s grateful for this woman if for no other reason than it gives Steve some peace of mind and lets him go home easier to get some sleep. Before Steve had left today Bucky had asked him to help him shave. Steve had had such a wide, knowing smile on his face that Bucky had been half tempted to punch him. But Steve _said_ nothing about it, knowing it would only cause Bucky to close himself off again. He had put on clean sweatpants and a fleece sweater, knowing Artemis would just frown and fret over him being cold if he didn’t. She often complained that they kept the hospital much too cool. Steve hadn’t said anything about that either but his grin had been so wide and happy it looked libel to split his face.  

The door to his room cracks open slowly, pulling him from his thoughts, Artemis’s face becoming visible as she pokes her head into the room. She frowns at the empty bed and then spots him by the window. She positively beams and Bucky ducks his head so she won’t see him flush. “Bucky! I almost didn’t recognize you!” She comes fully into the room and closes the door gently behind her, bouncing over to the table and sitting opposite him, though he wishes she wouldn’t as it leaves her exposed in the window’s view.

“Hi,” he greets quietly. She continues smiling at him as she pulls out the now familiar thermos and mugs from her canvas bag. Today the mugs are sky blue and a deep forest green, and chipped as always. He gives her a small smile in return, if for no other reason than it makes her smile so wide that her eyes crinkle up, just like Steve’s had earlier. She pours the coffee as Bucky attempts to discern what sort of snack she brought today. “Whaddaya have today, Artie?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she says and scoots his cup, the sky blue, across the table to him. “I hear that you only eat what I bring to ya and Peggy’s on my ass about it. So, you gotta start eating the stuff they give you or Sharon’s gonna start patting me down for baked goods.”

It’s true of course. He only managed a few bites of the hospital food at each meal before he gave up on it. Most food made him sick. Peggy had threatened a nutritional IV just this evening unless he ate half of what was on the tray. He had eaten it and then promptly thrown it up. There’s something horrifyingly familiar about the hospital food, something that he can’t put his finger on but that makes him sick to his stomach to even think about. But, alas, it’s just another thing he can’t remember.

“You’d risk a pat down for me, wouldn’t ya?” He tries joking with her. She smiles at him in response but it’s strained.

“Bucky…”

“I know.”

“Look, how about this,” she offers, “You start eating half of each meal they serve up-,” she cuts herself off and tilts her head to the side, thinking. “No, how about a fourth of what they give you and I promise to come more than armed with goodies every night?” Manageable, he thinks, she makes things, life, manageable. A fourth of a meal, not half, knowing that somedays even that’s too much.

He pretends to think about it though they both know it’s already a done deal. “Sure.” He’d do pretty much anything to assure she come back every night. Even when he knows its selfish and that she loses sleep over him.

“Good! As a reward…” she trails off and pulls out a Tupperware container from her bag. Bucky immediately feels wary. Up until this point it’s only been things in a paper bag. He hates that his gut clenches the way it does because of a small change like paper to plastic. He knows it’s irrational and doesn’t make sense but he can’t help it. It’s unknown and therefore dangerous and- she pulls off the lid and Bucky tries his best not to flinch but she notices.

She starts to reach out to him but stops herself. “Hey, it’s okay, I just didn’t want them to get crushed.” She tilts the container toward him and he glances inside. Cupcakes. Brightly colored icing, cheerful cupcakes.

He lets out a slow breath. “I haven’t had cupcakes in a long time,” he admits, or at least he _thinks_ he hasn’t, and Artemis smiles again.

“I know. Steve told me. I was running out of ideas for treats to bring and so I asked Wilson and Steve and Steve asked about cupcakes and I could not _believe_ that I hadn’t thought of them before! I mean it’s been almost two months and no cupcakes? What sort of a person am I?”

Before he can reply she shushes him and pulls out two more things from her bag. A chess board and chess pieces. As she begins setting up the pieces she commands him to pick out a cupcake. He does so and keeps his face neutral even though he’s sure it’s the best thing he’s ever tried. “You gonna teach me how to play chess?” He asks her cheekily around a mouthful of cake.

She feigns shock and shakes her head, “ _God_ _no,_ I thought _you_ would teach _me_.” She stares at the board and shakes her head again, “I don’t even know if the damn pieces are on the right spaces.”

As she looks for instructions online with her phone Bucky picks up another cupcake. It’s only on this second one that he realizes there’s something familiar about the taste. He chews slower, trying to place it. Something….something from before…before the Army? Many of those memories are long gone or buried. He looks up to find Artemis watching him closely. She knows then. He cocks an eyebrow at her, not sure whether he should be angry or not.

She winces, “Sorry.” She rubs a hand down her face, “Steve told me it was your favorite bakery from before you shipped off. I shoulda said something.”

He shakes his head, “These are really good.” He should be pissed. But…this is a good thing. This is the sort of thing he _wants_ to remember, even if he doesn’t have the exact memory.

To Bucky’s relief she lets it go and for the next couple hours they attempt to teach themselves chess. Bucky picks it up pretty quickly but Artemis struggles along, confused on why the pieces move the way they do. After Bucky crushes her in the first game they play he’s sure that he’s played chess before, maybe even used to be good at it. “Is this another set up?”

“What?”

“Did Steve tell you I used to be good at chess or something?” He asks, narrowing his eyes at her.

She shakes her head and crosses a finger over her heart, “I swear he didn’t. This is Tommy’s old board. I thought it would be a good way to pass time.”

He studies her for a moment and decides she’s telling the truth. She admitted the truth about the cupcakes. She’s staring the board down, nose wrinkled, when she looks back up and catches him staring. He glances away. “This is a dumb game anyways.”

He scoffs, “Just cause _you_ suck at it-,”

“Hey!”

“Well you do-,” he half smiles at her.

“We can’t all be master tacticians like yourself-,”

Her voice suddenly cuts out replaced by a high pitched whine. His blood roars in his ears blocking out any other sound.

_“The last shell just hit we gotta go n-,” someone shouts, then cuts off in a scream. Things are going south quite swiftly._

_“Hold your position this isn’t over yet,” Steve’s voice cuts through the sound of bullets whizzing around them and Bucky can see him crouching some distance to his left behind an overturned car, dust and sand kicking up around him. Sweat runs down his friend’s forehead and the sun overhead is so hot it burns. Bucky looks down at himself, blood is pooling around him, a sharp pain in his side. He has the feeling he’s been trying to get Steve’s attention, but he isn’t sure. Steve finally looks over, his face serious and grave but not yet panicked._

_As soon as his eyes light on Bucky terror creeps into his expression. And even though it isn’t safe and Bucky holds out a bloody hand, warning his friend to stay where he is, Steve hurtles through the gunfire to Bucky’s side. He lands hard, back smashing into the tire of the Humvee. “Shit! Where’ve you been shot?”_

_Bucky grins at his friend, “Hey, master tactician, the team needs you to lead em-,”Bucky’s heavy sarcasm seems to only fuel Steve’s terror and rage. But Bucky knows,_ knows _that this is it. He can’t feel anything in spite of the bullet lodged in his side and despite the sun he’s starting to feel cold. He can taste blood in his mouth, staining his teeth, from biting the inside of his cheek so hard._

_“Shut the hell up! Where were you hit?”_

_“Doesn’t matter-,”_

_“Don’t say that!”_

_Somewhere to their right something explodes, shaking the ground and rattling their teeth. Screams echo around them, the whole damn operation gone to shit. Distracted Steve begins looking Bucky over himself, “The team needs you, Steve, you gotta-,” Leave me was what he was going to say when something shines in the sun, spinning in the air, and hits the ground not too far to Bucky’s left. “Grenade!”_

_Bucky shoves hard on Steve’s shoulder, throwing Steve back several feet, and covering his body with his own._

_Blackness, cool and quiet over takes him, the next thing he knows is that Steve is leaning over him shouting his name. “-hey, focus on me, focus on me!” But something doesn’t feel right. He tries to look down and Steve grabs his face forcing him to look at him, “Eyes on me!” But he’s seen. He’s seen the mess of his left arm. “Extraction is coming you just gotta hold on-,”_

_“Get the others and go-,”_

_“There are no others damn it! Everyone’s dead.” Nausea rolls through him._ Dead _?_ That wasn’t possible _. Steve looks around helplessly as another explosion rocks through the ground. If Bucky had to guess, what happened next could be blamed on their shitty hearing, still ringing from the grenade._

_The next thing Bucky knows Steve is being shoved away from him and a masked man is hauling Bucky up from the ground by the neck of his uniform. His camouflaged helmet tilts off his head and smacks into the dusty, blood drenched ground. Steve is kneeling in Bucky’s blood with his hands up as the man uses Bucky as a human shield. Bucky tries not to see the carnage around Steve, the remains of what was once his arm. The man’s gun rests on Bucky’s shoulder and the only thing he can think is that if the man pulls the trigger he’ll never hear right again._

_“If you move, your friend dies,” the man says. Steve stays on the ground on his knees, hands in the air and although Bucky can see his friend’s mouth moving he can’t make out what Steve might be saying or if he might be saying it to him or the other man. The man jerks him upwards and hisses into Bucky’s hear, “On your feet, soldier.” When Bucky finally gets his feet underneath himself the man wastes no time and pulls the trigger, gun still braced on his shoulder. The vibration from the gun cuts right into Bucky’s mangled left shoulder and suddenly Bucky can_ feel _again. Bucky screams as the pain finally crashes into him and Steve falls, hit in the shoulder._

_He can hear Steve shouting now as the pain roils through him, vomit spilling from Bucky’s mouth onto the ground. Unconsciousness threatens to take him again when the other man shakes Bucky hard, cursing at him for not being able to control his nausea, and swings him around hauling him toward an idling truck. Bucky can only try to stay on his feet lest the man start dragging him in earnest. Through the searing pain and terror he can hear Steve shouting, “Bucky!”_

_But something's wrong. His voice is pitched horribly upwards in pure fright but strangely feminine sounding._

“Bucky!”

He's on the floor, cool linoleum pressed into his cheek and underneath him is Artemis. His only hand wrapped securely around her head, pressing her face down into his neck, his body covering hers. His body is stiff as a board. He tries to relax. He knows he's in the hospital in New York but his body is convinced that something is going to happen, that some danger is present. He hears the door open and can feel Artemis frantically waving them away behind his back. He turns his head in time to see Steve and Sharon retreating. Steve seems to be pleading with Sharon which only serves to make Bucky think there _is_ some unperceived danger lurking. Then the door shuts and they’re cut off from his view. 

“Hey, Buck? Are you back?” He notices that she isn't touching him despite his whole body being on top of hers. Her arms are pressed flat to the ground on either side of her body. Something bangs loudly out in the hallway and he presses his body harder down onto hers. “Hey, breathe, it’s okay. It isn’t anything.” Bucky takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out, just like the therapists are always telling him to do. Her arm then comes up tentatively and wraps around his lower back. He stiffens at first but this is the person he’s trying to _protect_ and so it must be okay and he relaxes into her touch slightly. “It's okay. It's okay. You're okay. It's okay Bucky.” Her arm feels nice wrapped around his back, warm and lightly muscled, fingers slowly rubbing circles into his spine. Her voice and feather light touch ground Bucky.

The door opens and Steve comes back in. Bucky stiffens again and presses Artemis closer. He braces for an explosion that never comes. There was a grenade. He's _sure_. But no… Steve was the one in danger of a grenade and Bucky… _he_ should be dead. Dead long ago with all the others that died that day. Steve crouches down and says something to Artemis but Bucky can't hear it over the sudden roaring in his ears.

Her fingers smooth down his spine again, calming him, “Bucky? It's okay. There isn't any danger. Can Steve help us up?”

He stays still a very long time until he feels Artemis take another breath, preparing to ask him again or to reassure him that it was safe. Before she can he says, “Yes.” He lets go of her head gently and her arm slides away from his back. Steve’s hand comes into his peripheral vision and he flinches but makes his arm press his body away from Artie’s, hand now braced against the floor, to a sitting position so he can grab Steve’s hand. He’s vaguely aware that this is the most human contact he’s had since he returned home. Steve hauls him gently upwards. As soon as he’s on his feet he let’s go of Steve and promptly nearly pitches forward, dizzy, blackness forming at the edge of his vision. Steve lays a steadying hand on his arm and Bucky nearly loses it again. Emotions he tries so hard to suppress every day suddenly well up inside him. Tears form in the corners of his eyes.

“ _Steve.”_ He whispers. “Steve.” He grips his friend’s arm back and pulls him into hug. “You’re here. You’re alive.” Over Bucky’s shoulder Steve gives Artemis a purely panicked look as she hauls herself up off the floor, looking shaken but also looking like she was trying _not_ to look shaken. Steve slowly wraps his arms around his friend so as not to frighten him away.

“Yeah, Buck, I’m here. I’m here, pal.”

 

~ 

 

Later, when everything has calmed down and Bucky has slept uninterrupted thanks to some drugs injected into his veins, Peggy’s orders, Steve asks Artemis what happened. She hadn’t left the hospital but rather left the café to Tommy and Connor for the day, preferring to stay and help monitor the situation.

“So?”

She shrugs helplessly, “I don’t know…I…one minute we were playing chess and joking around and the next second he went kinda glassy eyed and wouldn’t answer me. Then next thing I know he throws me to the ground.” Artemis rubs her hand over the back of her neck and clenches her eyes shut. Steve is standing in front of her in the hallway outside Bucky’s room, arms crossed over his chest, expression serious. “He…he said something about a grenade?” She asks hesitantly.

Steve sighs and lets his arms drop, “Yeah, yeah I figured that might have been it.”

She grimaces and looks away from him, “His arm?”

“Yeah,” he says and she curses under her breath softly.

They stay quiet for a few minutes. Steve tells her to go home and get some rest. She knows this is goodbye, that she fucked up, that this is her dismissal. So, she does, heart lodged firmly in her throat.


	7. Misunderstanding, Understanding

For three days I don’t go back to visit Bucky. Not because what happened deterred me, not because I saw Bucky any differently. But because I’m terrified that the two of them, Steve and Bucky, don’t want me around anymore. No, I know that they don’t want me there anymore. After all it had to have been me who triggered him. Steve had seemed determined to keep me away that day as we waited in the hall and so I had gone and had not returned.

The day after the incident Tommy and I didn’t open the café. Connor was none too pleased when he arrived and found the place locked up, banging on the window for twenty minutes before I went downstairs and nearly put my fist through his face. (“You could have called me!” “You don’t usually come in on Tuesdays!” “ _Sor-ry_ for wanting to be a diligent employee!”) Tommy and I had spent the whole day lying in his bed together and not saying much at all. He told me it wasn’t my fault and made me tea and put on my favorite movie. I was very glad in those moments for my best friend who knew me better than I probably knew myself. Tommy made life easier and it was nice to be taken care of for once.

The next day I couldn’t stand to sit still any longer and pushed my emotionally exhausted state to the back of my mind and ran on autopilot. It was easy to lose myself in the care the café required, easy to lose myself in the veteran’s stories and crude jokes, easy to lose myself in the cleanup. I was trying my best to avoid thinking about how Bucky probably never wanted to see me again. My heart ached at the thought. Tommy made himself a reassuring presence, knowing I still wasn’t quite myself, still trying to reassure me that it wasn’t my fault, that they wouldn’t blame me. I couldn't bring myself to believe him. After we closed I went for a jog, longer than I should have, attempting to tire myself out, but all I managed to do was make myself sore.

Today we opened the café as normal. My legs are sore but my heart hurts a bit more, a dull ache in my chest, my lungs feeling like there just _wasn’t_ enough air. I hadn’t realized how attached to Bucky I had become, how much I had come to care for the man, and how much I enjoyed watching him open up more and more and recover, albeit at a turtle’s pace. I’m listening to Angela who is telling my about her new grandson when the door to the café whips open. Steve Rogers stands in the threshold looking like God himself, with a dark look on his face. The blood drains from my face as his eyes find mine and he curtly says, “Can I talk to you?” The question mark in his voice was more of a civil gesture than anything as his tone brokered no room for negotiation or refusal.  

“I, uh, yeah…hold on a minute.” He nods tightly and steps back outside into the September heat. I make a few more rounds and Tommy asks me if he needs me but I tell him no, that this is something I can handle. Even though I’m not sure I can.

I untie the apron from around my waist, toss it on the counter, and make my way outside. Steve is leaning against the wall, arms crossed, looking stupidly good in a t-shirt that’s two sizes too small for him. “Steve?”

He looks up and nods to one of the wrought iron tables sitting out front. It's too hot for anyone to be sitting out here comfortably today. We sit and it’s silent and awkward. Sweat trickles down my side as I wait for him to say something. Steve is giving me a hard look and I’m determinedly not meeting his eyes. “I’m sorry,” I eventually blurt out when I can’t take the tension any longer.

“You should be,” his voice is hard with barely contained anger.

I pick at the table with a nail and try to hold back the tears stinging my eyes. I swallow around the lump forming in the back of my throat and continue, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I said to trigger him. I know I should be more careful with what I say but everything just felt so normal I forgot. And Steve you have to believe me that I care about Bucky, so, _so_ much. I never meant to hurt him. I-I’m just really sorry and if you could tell him that that’d be great.”

When I finish I make myself look up from the table and meet Steve’s eyes. They’re wide with shock, his mouth hanging open. He snaps his mouth shut and shakes his head. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“What?”

“You can’t think what happened was your fault? That _I_ blame you? That _Bucky_ does?” He asks, tone disbelieving.

I frown at him, his expression confused and only mildly annoyed now. “Isn’t that why you’re here?”

He groans and shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “I’m here to ask why the hell you haven’t been over since.”

I stare at him, dumbfounded. “What?”

He just gives me a frustrated look. “You just up and left him when he needed support the most.”

“You told me to leave!” I say, anger flaring in my gut. I had been torn up for three days thinking that two people I had come to care for very much didn’t want me around anymore and he had the audacity to accuse me of leaving because I wanted to?

“To get some rest! Not to never come back!” He bangs his fist on the table in irritation. I jump from the noise and sudden movement, my whole body tense, panic replacing the anger in me. He glances at me, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” His voice is quiet now.

“It’s okay,” I say as reassuringly as I can, trying to calm my racing heart.  

He sighs, frustrated, and braces his elbows on the table, hands supporting his head. He looks up at me again, dropping his hands. “He _misses_ you. He does better when you’re around. But he’s so embarrassed about it he didn’t even tell me he hadn’t seen you until this morning. He thinks he’s finally ran you off.”

I try not to think about the implications of what he just said. _Misses_ _me_. My heart soars and I try to stomp on the feeling as quickly as I can. “Has he…Has he been okay?” I ask thickly.

“Not really. More down, pessimistic.” Guilt lodges itself in my throat at his words. He continues, “And then of course Sharon has been bugging the hell out of him, hardly ever leaves him be. Instated herself in your position for the time being only Bucky would rather jump out a window. She means well but he needs _you_ there.”

He’s quiet for a few heartbeats then says, “What happened wasn’t your fault. It’s just something that happens. He even talked about it to me a little which has never happened before. It’s improvement but I don’t want to go backwards.” He swallows gruffly, “And I know coming over every night…morning, whatever, is time consuming and exhausting and a selfish thing to ask you to do. But I _will_ ask you to keep doing it because Bucky…he’s the only person I really have. He’s my best friend and I don’t know what I’d do…if…if something-,”

I lay a hand on his shoulder, rub gentle circles there with my thumb. “Okay. I know. It’s okay. If it were Tommy, which once it was, I would do the same thing.” I move my chair next to Steve’s and put what I hope is a comforting arm around his waist. He folds his arm around my shoulders and gives me a gentle squeeze. Resting my head on his shoulder I say, “Tell Bucky I’ll be there tonight.”

 

~

 

“Bucky?” I stand in the doorway for a few more seconds but he doesn’t answer. His chest is rising and falling evenly, slowly. Asleep. I’ve been coming over here for two months and had never seen Bucky asleep. But he is now, and seemingly peacefully so. I sit down in the chair next to the bed and set my canvas bag carefully on the floor. He looks younger in sleep, certainly less tense, more handsome. Tentatively, and reprimanding myself even as I do so knowing he could wake up and panic, I reach over and brush a bit of long hair back from his face, fingertips ghosting over the surprisingly soft skin of his cheekbone. He has the longest, darkest eyelashes I’ve ever seen, or maybe my judgement is a bit clouded. I blush and pull my hand back before he can wake. He huffs out a soft breath in his sleep and turns toward me, curling up like a cat. I smile as he begins to snore softly. God, I’m fucking hopeless.  

I pour myself some coffee from the thermos made the way Bucky likes it, which is with much too much cream in my opinion and pull out the novel I’m currently reading. I settle back in the uncomfortable chair, prepared to stay ‘til morning even if Bucky slept all the way through. I said I’d be here and so I would be.

An hour later when my ass has just fallen asleep and the hard plastic of the chair is starting to become really unbearable he stirs. “Steve?” He voice is groggy and gravelly and vulnerable in a way I’ve never heard before.

“No, just me.” His eyes spring open at my voice, his eyes meet mine and for once he doesn’t glance away after a few seconds. He stares at me for so long in fact that I have to look away, heat threatening to spread its way onto my face.

“Sorry. Was just wonderin’ if you were real,” he says turning onto his back and groaning a bit, squeezing his eyes shut for a second.  

“I’m real and I’m sorry I went MIA on you.” I frown as he opens his eyes and turns his head to look back at me, pain in his eyes, “Are you okay?”

“Steve get to you?” He asks, avoiding my question.

“Yeah.”

“I told him to leave you be. That you’d probably come back in your own time.” My heart breaks at the way he says _probably_ , like he didn’t really believe that I would have. I wasn’t planning to but not for the reasons he thinks. “I told him that you were probably just realizing how hopeless I am-,”

“That’s not it at all.” I say, setting my book down and leaning forward. I brace my elbows on my knees, hands cradling my head. “I thought you wouldn’t want me back over.”

He frowns at me, eyes lighting into mine, head resting on the pillow, “Why would you think something like that?” His eyes are so blue and open, so different from the closed off man I met not so long ago. His voice is soft and concerned now. I feel myself instinctively leaning forward until I catch myself, embarrassed. I pull away and sit up straight.

“I thought I caused it. Steve very aggressively made sure I knew I did not.” I still wasn’t so sure but I wasn’t going to say that to Bucky for the time being.  

He shakes his head and looks at the ceiling, “It wasn’t you. You couldn’t have known what would happen.” He swallows and then sighs, “’m just a sensitive little shit anymore is all.”  

“Bucky…” Warning in my voice but he doesn’t look at me and doesn’t answer so I say, “I’m still sorry, just for that fact that it happened at all.”

“You could make it up to me by getting me some of that coffee,” he says, a small smile on his face, trying his best to lighten the mood, our heavy conversation.

As I pour, Bucky sits up, and I carefully ask, “Are you okay?” I try not to let my voice hitch but it does and he notices, glancing over in concern.  

“I’m okay,” he says, very quiet. I hand him his cup and we’re careful not to meet each other’s eyes. “What are you reading?”

“Nothin’ you should be worried about,” I automatically quip and I’m glad because it gets a small smile out of him.

“That bad huh? What is it Fifty Shades?”

“You would only know about that book if you’d read it.”

He smiles at me, glad for the bit of normalcy, and sips at his coffee, “I’m glad you came back, Artie. Even if it makes me the most selfish prick in the world. I’m glad.”

I shake my head ready to tell him that I think the world of him, that I’m glad to come over but he beats me to it. “You know how you said that it’s moments? That life is terrible but the small, good moments make up for all the shit? I think you’re wrong.” And just like that the hardness, and difficult nature of the conversation is back. But Bucky knows this is something he can say to me, that I’m willing to have these conversations.

Nonetheless, I feel myself deflate a little, suddenly _very_ unwilling to hear what he has to say. Swallowing around the burning in the back of my throat, not wanting to hear Bucky tell me he’s ready to ‘check out’ as Steve puts it. Not wanting to admit to myself that I had been wrong about his doing better, that I had deluded myself and, even worse, Steve into thinking I was helping, “Bucky…” my voice cracks around his name, laced with gentle warning.

He plows ahead anyways, “I think it’s the people.”

Everything stops. I’m too afraid to breathe, worried if I move or make a sound the illusion of what I just heard would shatter. Did he just tell me he found a reason to live? “What?” I eventually breathe out. “ _What_?”

He looks uncomfortable, self-conscious suddenly as though he’s said something wrong. “I just think…it’s the people. Steve and you and even Sharon and Wilson, as annoying as they are, and Peggy no matter how much she bullies me into eating. You guys are my people. You make it worth it.” Tears burn in my eyes at his words. He scrubs at the nape of the neck with his hand before running it through his hair. “I…that was stupid…it-,”

“James Buchanan Barnes don’t you ever say that’s stupid. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. I’m proud of you.”

“Don’t do that,” he says, suddenly sharp. “Don’t say that.”

“Wha-? Why?” My head spins at his sudden change of tone.

“Because I still think about it. All too often. Most of the time actually,” he says, refusing to look at me again. “I don’t want to lead you to believe…I don’t want you to…” He trails off and doesn’t continue.

“You still…want to…go?” I whisper. Things like this were not easy to hear no matter who they came from but especially hard from someone you care about.

He huffs out a bitter laugh, “Most days…most days it isn’t enough, not worth it.”

“Bucky? Look at me?” He reluctantly meets my eyes, tears swimming in the corners of his own, and it breaks my heart. “But right now? In this moment? It is enough?”

“Yes,” he whispers almost reverently, not breaking eye contact. “ _Yes_.”

I smile. “Then that’s something. That’s all that matters right now. This is a process and it might always be a process but that’s okay. As long as you go forward.”  

He shakes his head, looking troubled. He looks as though he wants to say something. Very carefully I offer him my hand, palm up, concerned this might be a huge mistake. He’s gotten better with eye contact, why not touch. Bucky stares at my hand, his mouth falling open, confusion spreading over his features. “Sometimes it’s easier to say something if you have something or someone to hold on to.” He hesitates. “You don’t have to I know you’re finicky about touch.” He suddenly reaches out and takes my hand, lacing our fingers together. Bucky’s breathing harder now and he closes his eyes, squeezing my hand a bit hard. I don’t know if it’s from human touch or preparing to tell me whatever he wants to say. Either way I give him a moment to adjust. I squeeze his fingers a little, trying not to think about how much I like the feel of his hand in mine, warm and callused and large.

“What if you don’t deserve to go forward?”

I sit quietly a moment and contemplate his question. His eyes are still closed and I rub circles into his hand with my thumb. What I wanted to know was what happened to Bucky that made him think he didn’t deserve to go forward. “I think…I think everyone deserves a chance. To go forward and move on and become better.”

He sighs, “You sound like Steve.”

“Steve generally has a good grasp of things.”

The corners of his mouth twitch upwards and I suddenly have the horrifying urge to lean forward and kiss those corners. I shake myself and try not to blush as Bucky opens his eyes and says, “That punk? Yeah, I guess he does. Sometimes he hasn’t got a clue though.”

“Peggy?” And just like that the seriousness slips away. I could have punched myself for ruining the moment.  

“Oh good I’m not the only one that sees the heart eyes.”

“Yeah, and then you and Sharon right?” I ask, suddenly mischievous.    

“ _Sharon_?” he asks, horrified.

“Oh yeah Steve told me you guys hang out all the time now since I was gone. I didn’t know I was so easily replaced.” I give him a cheeky grin so he knows I’m joking but its lost on him at the moment.

He clutches my hand tighter and says, “God no. Sharon is nice and she means well most of the time but _no_.”   

I laugh, and take a chance nudging his knee with our still clasped hands, “Was just jokin’ Buck.” He doesn’t seem bothered by the small touch and I’m relieved.

He glares at me. “I knew that.”

“You did not!”

He huffs out an annoyed breath, “Fine. Are you going to tell me about this book or am I going to have to read it myself?”

“Ooooooo Bucky Barnes reading imagine that.”

“Shut it,” mouth twitching upwards again in that horribly distracting way.

“How about I give the synopsis and then you can decide if you wanna read it when I’m done.”

He nods and leans back listening to me tell him the central plot and even though we have no reason to be holding hands anymore, neither of us let’s go. As he listens to me talk his thumb smooths over the back of my hand, soothing and distracting me at the same time.  

Later when it’s quiet and I’m forcing Bucky to watch one of my favorite shows which happened to be on TV, hands still blissfully clasped together, I look over and whisper, “Buck?”

“Hmmm?” His eyes are glued to the screen, even though he pretends to hate it.

“For what it’s worth I’m really glad you’re here.” I pause as his gaze slides over to meet mine, “You deserve to move forward.”

He smiles, but it’s broken.  


	8. A Realization

Artemis falls asleep shortly after she turns on the TV, with what she claims is her favorite TV show playing. She tilts sideways on the hard visitor’s chair, head resting against the side of the bed which Bucky had raised into a reclining position. However, Bucky doesn’t have the heart to wake her despite how uncomfortable her position looks. Her face is relaxed, the permeant crease between her brows gone for the time being. She huffs out soft breaths, nose scrunching every so often. Her hand is still warm and safe tucked inside Bucky’s own larger one. It’s sickeningly cute and Bucky hates himself for staring and wishing he had another damn hand to reach out a touch her cheek, smooth and lovely as it is. So, he had been honest when he had answered her earlier: right now it is worth it. Everything is worth it. And somehow that makes him feel worse. He knows he doesn’t deserve the feeling of _worth_ _it_.  

 _For what it’s worth I’m really glad you’re here._ She has no idea of the effect her words have on him. The fact that someone, _someone_ had articulated it and that the words had had the shape of truth, meant the world to Bucky. Someone besides Steve that is, who Bucky was pretty sure would always tell him he was worth it no matter what he did. It validates, he realizes, Steve’s opinion.

He would have to let go of Artemis’s hand soon though. Sunlight was starting to peak through the window and Sharon had a penchant for showing up at the worst times. She would probably coo at the two of them, wake Artemis in the process, and make both of them feel awkward and embarrassed about the simple gesture. Because Bucky will not let himself believe it might be anything else. It was a gesture of support, nothing more, nothing less. So, why couldn’t he make himself let her hand go?

Maybe it’s the sheer lack of human contact he’s had. Or maybe her hand just feels very nice inside his. Maybe he’s just glad she’s back and easy to talk to. Whatever the reason is it gives him a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach. _And she was only gone three fucking days_ , he thinks bitterly, disappointed in himself at how much he needs her to be here.

He hates that warm feeling and the fact that he was so lost and hurt when he had woken up and she hadn’t been there and then had continued to not be there. Bucky was sure, _absolutely_ _sure_ that he had finally done something to make her hate him. He had attacked her, no matter how Steve tried to spin it otherwise, throwing her to the floor over a grenade that had never been in the room. Even if it was a protective move it probably hadn’t felt like that to Artemis at the time.

He hates the warm feeling because he knows he has no right to have that feeling. The things he had seen and done and been forced to do did not fit in the same world with this woman. No matter that she’s a soldier too, nothing she had done could compare to the horror-

Bucky stops himself thinking about that anymore and instead focuses on the woman still by his side. He’s selfish for not waking her up, not telling her to go home to her bed which is surely more comfortable. Her hand finally slips out of his as she tugs it free in sleep to tuck against her chest, sighing gently. He smiles and immediately wipes it off his face, concerned even now that someone might see.

Artemis’s head tilts down further and at this point she’s halfway onto the mattress, only her ass still in the chair, feet tucked underneath her. He tenses but she stays asleep. The bed is still in a reclined position but he doesn’t dare move it to be able to fully lie down. Instead he slouches down and very carefully leans his head against hers. Bucky waits a few seconds, hardly breathing, fully prepared for her to wake up and ask just what the hell he thinks he’s doing. But she doesn’t. So, with the sun rising and Artemis’s warm presence beside him, their heads pressed together, Bucky let’s his eyes drift closed and for once he has no trouble falling asleep.

 

~

 

Steve stops by the nurses’ station every morning to drop off coffees for the nurses on duty but also to have an excuse to stop and talk to Peggy whom he is hopelessly attracted to. He gets the coffee from the Veteran’s View of course where he stops for a few minutes to talk to Artemis every morning. She usually gives the rundown of how her time with Bucky went and what sort of mood to expect him in and to tease him about Peggy (“Steven, you don’t have to buy coffee every morning just to talk to her. She’ll talk to you even if you don’t buy the whole hospital coffee.”).

This morning however she hadn’t been there. It was just Tommy and Connor. The three previous mornings Steve hadn’t stopped in, too concerned about Bucky to have bothered. Steve had known about Connor of course but he had never actually seen him. Connor, a small, pale, seemingly meek coffee extraordinaire had been ringing people up and giving Tommy orders with an air of confidence that would have made any general proud. Tommy had looked scandalized about being ordered around but followed the orders nonetheless, all while answering Steve’s questions about Artie’s whereabouts. It wasn’t like her not to be there and apparently she hadn’t come home that morning. Tommy didn’t seem all that concerned. “Probably just still with your boy,” he had said nonchalantly, shrugging as he handed Steve his carrier of coffees.

So, he drops off the coffees without saying hello this morning and doesn’t catch Peggy’s disappointed expression. He hurries to his friend’s room concerned something might have happened that made Artemis miss opening the café. When he gets to the room Sharon is standing inside the door practically beaming with excitement, hands pressed over her mouth, eyes shining. When she sees Steve approaching she takes one of her hands away from her lips to point eagerly. Steve peeks around the corner and is greeted with the sight of Bucky and Artemis asleep together.

Artie’s face is pressed into Bucky’s good shoulder, his head tilted down over hers, cheek pressed to the top of her head. Bucky’s hand rests lightly on the mattress very close to Artemis’s own, as though they might have been holding hands. Artemis herself is half on the bed, half on the chair. Both their faces are serene, mouths parted gently, soft breaths blowing strands of hair. Steve doesn’t think he’s seen his best friend this at peace since before they enlisted.

Steve turns back to Sharon who puts a finger over her own lips and then makes a clicking motion at the two sleeping people. Steve frowns at her and she rolls her eyes, bringing out her phone, taking fake photos of the two of them before pointing at Steve. And Steve, knowing its good blackmail and being a little shit besides, does just that, smiling the whole time.

 

~

 

“ _I_ couldn’t do it you know because I could get fired for such a thing but _you_ … You’re their friend and so it’s okay,” Sharon explains as they make their way back to the nurses’ station. Sharon decided not to take Bucky’s vitals until later that morning as it was something of a miracle that he was asleep at all.

When they reach the station the nurses are all staring at them in curiosity as their voices had floated ahead of them down the hallway. Steve turns his phone toward them and they all lean forward to get a better look.

A chorus of _awwww’s_ escapes those viewing the picture. Peggy grins and says, “Now who would have thought our grumpy, silent Barnes had such a sweet side?”

“I coulda told ya that Peg. Bucky used to be quite the gentleman before we enlisted.” He says smiling at the brunette.

“Mmm. Seems he still is,” she says smiling up at him and Steve has to look away to hide his blush. “Better show that to Wilson though if Bucky is coming around to touch with even one person that’s significant progress.” Steve knows Bucky has been getting better with touch for a while but keeps that to himself. But certainly this development with Artie is new.

He nods instead, “Will do.” Steve wonders briefly how Artemis manages to make herself so reachable not just to Bucky but to everyone and what sort of toll that took on her.

Sharon suddenly let’s out a blissful sigh. “Aren’t they just the cutest?”

Peggy abruptly looks stern, “Don’t say anything to them about it, Share. It might make Barnes shut them out again.”

“I know!” She says, reproachful, then pauses, “I’m just saying. They’re adorable.”

Steve has to turn away and walk down the hall after hearing that, his heart beating loudly in his ears suddenly.

_“Buck?”_

_Bucky is staring through him, rifle still slung over his shoulder. “I...” He swallows thickly, “Steve?”_

_“I’m here Bucky.” His friend’s eyes are so far away and lost. “Hand me that rifle would ya pal?”_

_“Yeah,” he says distantly, handing it over. Bucky is covered in blood, face dirty and smeared with dust and dirt and sweat and blood. Steve wonders where his handsome, charming best friend has gone before he remembers that he gave the orders that have made Bucky look this way. But Bucky would follow any and all orders Steve gave because he trusts Steve, trusts that Steve knows what he’s doing and making the good, moral choices._

_Steve pulls his friend into a hug which Bucky eventually returns, guilt settling heavy in Steve’s stomach that he had abused his friend’s trust._

Steve has to stop and lean against the wall at a hallway intersection, not completely sure where he is. His breaths are heavy and he tries desperately to regulate them, closing his eyes, sucking in great lungful’s of cold, stale hospital air. Adorable now maybe, in sleep and before, but everything else, every _time_ else Bucky was broken and hollowed out and it was completely and utterly Steve’s fault.

A gentle hand touches his shoulder, “Rogers?” It’s Peggy. He opens his eyes but doesn’t turn to her.

“I’m okay.”

“You _aren’t_.” She tugs on his shoulder until he turns to face her. He looks down at her serious face, lips painted her signature red, long brown hair curled perfectly. “You don’t have to always be okay.” She smiles a small, sad smile just for him.  

He sighs. He knows he doesn’t have to be, but he needs to be. He shrugs off her touch. “I should go check on Bucky.”

She nods, unoffended and unruffled, “Okay.”

 

~

 

When he makes it back to Bucky’s room his friend is standing beside the window, out of view from the outside world, the yellow light pooling on the floor around him. Artemis is nowhere to be found. Bucky turns when he hears Steve approaching, smile faltering when he catches sight of Steve’s face. “Morning, Buck.” Steve greets and Bucky’s frown deepens, noticing something off in his best friend’s tone immediately.

“Are you okay?”

He shrugs off the question, “Fine.” Steve pauses, wondering how he could bring up Artie without making Bucky close himself off. “So, did Artemis come to visit last night?”

A small smile tugs at the edges of Bucky’s mouth, “Yeah.”

“And you two…made up?”

Bucky narrows his eyes at him. “You know I thought it was strange that Sharon didn’t wake one of us up and now I know why. She was off telling the rest of you.” Bucky doesn’t seem upset that they had seen and Steve breathes a sigh of relief.

Steve scrubs at the back of his neck and sits at the table by the window, looking up at his friend still drenched in that warm, buttery morning air. “That easy to figure out huh?”

“Yeah. Good thing you weren’t the one that got captured. Might’ve given everything away without saying a word.” Steve’s heart drops into his stomach at his friend’s words, nausea clawing its way up his throat. Bucky’s body has went very still and tense. Bucky clears his throat gruffly, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.” He pauses for a second then says, “It was a shitty joke.”  

“Bucky…” Steve lets his voice trail off, hanging his head, bracing an elbow on the table and scrubbing harshly at his hair one handed. He shakes his head, “God, Bucky I am so sorry.” Steve shakes his head again and gives a bitter laugh, “I’ll never stop being sorry and it’ll never be enough.”

For a few minutes it’s so still and silent they could’ve heard a pin drop. Steve is starting to think he’s fucked up big time when Bucky’s hand tentatively lands on his shoulder in what is supposed to be a comforting gesture. Steve is shocked by the move and the meaning behind this small action. He’s getting better with touch and Steve can only feel as though he doesn’t deserve to be a part of it. Bucky gently kneads his fingers into the flesh of Steve’s shoulder. “What happened is not your fault, Stevie.” Steve lets out a choked sob at his friend’s soft, comforting words. “It just happened.”

“I’m the damn person who convinced you to enlist!” Steve chokes out, “I was your commanding officer. I was-I’m…” He can’t go on, his voice cracking horribly.  

“And I would do it again.” He sighs and let’s go of Steve’s shoulder. Bucky braces his arm against the wall and not so gracefully lowers himself into the other chair but he manages. “Gettin’ better at that,” Bucky says, only slightly proud. He looks over at Steve who is watching him silently, “I would do it again, even knowin’ what would happen and you wanna know why? Cause it’s me and you pal. We’ve always been together and we’re always gonna be.” He pauses, picks at a knot in the wooden table, “I…I, uh…may not remember a whole lot from before the enlistment but I know that. I _know_ that.” He pauses again and looks out the window as Steve viciously wipes away the tears that managed to escape at Bucky’s admission. “Besides, you came back for me didn’t ya?”

Steve swallows harshly, “You remember that?”

Bucky shrugs, “Sorta. Bits.” He doesn’t say anything else and Steve knows he won’t elaborate. _A helicopter_ , Bucky thinks, _a sudden dry heat_.

But Steve has to ask and Bucky seems open to answering questions right now. “Buck…how much do you remember? About any of it?”

Bucky sighs and looks around the room as though the answer might lie there, hiding under the bed or behind the door. Bucky stares at Starry Night still hung on the wall across from his bed, trying to find the courage to answer Steve. He shrugs and looks back at Steve, “Not everything. Some of it….I’m not sure if…if it was real or, or a dream.” He coughs and looks back to the floor, his throat tight with unshed tears, “Don’t- don’t ask me anymore right now.” Another pause, “Please.” His voice trembles horribly and Bucky tries not to feel ashamed at this barefaced show of emotions.

“Yeah, okay, Buck.” Steve wipes at his face again, “It’s okay. I won’t make ya talk.” His voice is gravelly and rough from the tears.  

They sit in silence again before Bucky finds his voice again a few minutes later, surprising Steve, “I want to though. Talk, I mean. I just…it’s gotta be short.” He meets Steve’s red rimmed eyes as the blond nods in understanding.

“Would you talk to Sam?” Steve wheedles, taking a chance, surprised by his friend’s sudden change of heart.

Bucky looks panicked suddenly, jolting up from the chair as though shocked, “No! No, no, I don’t-,”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Steve says gently, “I was just askin’. You don’t have to.”

Bucky settles slightly but doesn’t sit back down. Instead he begins pacing, agitated. He runs his fingers through his long, unkempt hair. “Maybe…maybe I could talk to you and Sam could just be there? I don’t…I…” He stops pacing, standing in the center of the room, and faces Steve at the table. “I just think it’s…” He pauses and swallows thickly but doesn’t continue, looking frustrated.

“Take your time,” Steve encourages, secretly very, very proud of Bucky’s sudden effort to communicate effectively. Bucky thinks about what Artemis said last night, _you deserve to go forward._ Maybe this is his chance to go forward.  

Bucky resumes pacing and the silence stretches. Finally he stops and says, “I think that maybe…maybe um, maybe I should try. For you and for Artie.” Steve knows his friend wants to die but what he says next, nothing could have prepared Steve for it. “I think that maybe it might be worth it. For you two. I don’t want to feel this way anymore. Like I need to go.” Steve’s throat closes at Bucky’s quiet admission, his plea for help.

Steve has to hide another sniffle in his hand. He thought Bucky was getting better but to _hear_ it…When he masters his emotions he looks back at Bucky still standing in the middle of the room, looking nervous and worried, like he might’ve said something wrong. “God…Bucky….that’s good. That’s real good. I’ll be here for it. All the way. ‘Til the end of the line, okay? Whatever you need. I’m sure we can arrange something with Sam.”

Bucky tilts his head to the side at the phrase, “End of the line?”

“Yeah.”

Bucky smiles, “Yeah, ‘til the end of the line, pal. Together.”

 

~

 

Artemis nearly drops the tray she’s holding when a very solid body slams into hers from behind. She yelps and tries to push the person away until she realizes its Steve. “Hey, you okay?” When he doesn’t answer anxiety slips into her veins, “Is something wrong? Is Bucky-,”

Steve squeezes her tighter, his arms wrapped around her middle. “No.”

Artie sighs in relief and turns to the couple of customers she was serving, “’Scuse me, folks. I’ll be right back.” She wiggles gently out of Steve’s grasp before grabbing his hand and hauling him into the kitchen, shrugging at Tommy as she passes the counter. In the darkened kitchen among the pots and pans and dirty dishes she tugs him back into a hug, facing him this time, wrapping her arms around his neck standing on her tip toes. “What’s goin’ on, huh?”

“I’m never gonna be able to stop thanking you.” He says, arms slipping around her waist, “Never.”

“Why’s that, Captain?”

He laughs and hugs her closer, “You’re helping give my best friend back.” She pushes him away to look at his face when he says that, confusion written there. “I mean it, you are. I don’t know what you say to him but he always seems better off for it.”

She pats Steve’s shoulders a few times and then pulls away entirely and guides him to a bar stool at one of the counters in the back, flipping the lights on as she goes. “Sit,” Artemis commands and Steve does. She sets about making tea, turning on the electric boiler and setting out cups. “You like tea right?”

“Yeah?”

“Milk? Sugar?”

“Just sugar.” She nods and sets out some sugar before dashing away to check on Tommy. He’s methodically wiping down the counters, preparing for closing.

“You good?” She asks. Tommy just gestures to the one customer left in the joint as an answer.

“I think I got it covered.”

“Thanks, Tom.”

“You got it, Art.” She smiles at the nickname before heading back to Steve.

“So, Rogers, tell me what happened to inspire this sudden surge of affection for me."

When Steve finishes telling Artie about his and Bucky’s eventful morning and subsequent eventful evening at the hospital she is beaming and trying not to cry. “Oh, Steve, I’m so glad to hear that.”

He nods and cups his hands around the warm ceramic mug. “Yeah, so I guess we’re gonna start talkin’, about whatever Bucky wants, with Sam there to sort guide it. He still won’t, y’know, speak to anyone but the two of us.” He pauses, meets her curious eyes, “So thanks. It’s progress.”

She shakes her head, “Wasn’t me.”

“What?”

“Bucky told me just last night about wantin’ to live…because of the people in his life. He figured it out himself.”

“Artemis…” She tilts her head to the side, a silent _what?_ “It’s at least partly you. Before…before…I was really worried he would never come around. Now I have hope he’ll be able to recover. Don’t sell yourself short, you got the ball rolling, whatever you did.”

She smiles and looks down into her cup but Steve notices it’s not entirely an unbroken thing.     


	9. Something Off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, I just wanted to take the opportunity to say thanks for reading. That even one person has enjoyed or liked this story means the world to me. :)

Bucky does better but not great. The sessions with Sam and Steve take a while to get the ball rolling. Steve tells me that the first one they spent almost entirely without Bucky saying a word. He does better after a few more sessions but he’s still closed off. It’s as if it physically pains him to speak in front of people. I’ve asked him on many occasions why he speaks to me and the only response I’ve gotten so far has been a shrug and passive silence. Steve tells me to leave it alone, as does Tommy. Wilson tells me to keep pushing. “You’re the only person to have gotten him to speak.”

I hate that they phrase it that way, as though I had been attempting to get him to speak. It had just _happened_. He had told me he liked our coffee and that had been that. Maybe it was coincidence and I just happened to be the person in the room at the time. Whatever it was I was glad it had happened. I adored Bucky and took every chance I could get to visit him. Tommy rolled his eyes and feigned gagging whenever I would sneak away from the café to visit him, usually after the lunch rush.

Physically he was doing much better. Training in the VA gym and doing more physical therapy. Eating, however, remained a challenge. He stuck to his deal with me that he would eat a fourth of each meal. But Peggy and Sharon told me that more often than not he ended up throwing up whatever he’d eaten. He seemed to keep down what I brought him just fine and so Steve and I became concerned he might be doing it on purpose.

Steve is currently sitting on a stool behind my counter at the café, a frown on his lips. I set the coffee pot down and wait until the refill customer is out of hearing range before I turn back to Steve, crossing my arms and leaning there next to him. He shakes his head and meets my eyes, “I just don’t see why he would do it on purpose.”

I shrug, “We could ask.”

“But I don’t think that he is. He always seems really upset with himself afterwards. Like he wants to keep it down but can’t.”

Steve runs a hand through his hair making it stand up fluffily. He has several days of scruff, looking out of place on his normally clean shaven face. He has circles under his eyes as well. “When’s the last time you slept, Rog?”

He blows out a slow breath and shakes his head, “Last night?” Smiling a bit trying to play off his obvious lack of rest.

“For how long?”

He gives me a reproachful look, “Don’t patronize me when I know you get all of four hours every night.”

“Visiting _your_ best friend.” I shake my head, “Listen, I’m just worried about you okay? Now about the eating issue….”

“I don’t know what to do. Short of putting him on an IV there’s nothing we can do.” He sighs looking worried and stressed beyond his years.

“He _has_ to eat, Stevie. Especially now that he works out. He’s lean now but it’s not a good lean. And it’s close to not even being _lean_ but _skinny_.”

“I know!” He near shouts which gets a few concerned looks from the patrons. I smile easily at them, even as my heart rate skyrockets at the sudden noise, and they go back to their lunches. “Sorry. I just-,”

“It’s frustrating, I know.” I pause and give Steve a once over. He really does look exhausted. “Look don’t get mad. I’m just concerned but you really do look like shit. You need to take care of yourself too. You ain’t any good to Bucky the way you’re running now.” I lay a hand on his shoulder, “You talkin’ to someone?”

“Sam.”

“Good. Try and get some sleep though and _eat_ somethin’ for god sakes.” I rub circles into his shoulder, “I’ll get you something now _and_ something to take to Bucky. You tell him it’s from me and sorry I couldn’t be over for lunch.”

Steve frowns, “You aren’t coming over?”

“Nope. I can feel a second rush coming and I can’t leave Tommy to it on his own. Plus I need to talk to some of the guys. They’ve been complaining I’ve been running out on ‘em.” I smile, “They have stories to tell and I’m the listener you know.”

He sighs and smiles at me, “Yeah I think we all know that by now.” I stop rubbing his shoulder and give it a few pats before I let my hand fall away. Steve for all his kindness and gentlemanly qualities, for all his sweetness and softness is one of the loneliest people I know. He stares down at his hands in his lap, his shoulders bowed in a heavy way I recognize easily.

“Hey, quit beatin’ yourself up.” I put a curled finger beneath his chin and force him to look up at me. “He’s getting there, slowly but he is. Slowly isn’t always bad anyhow.” I let go of his chin and he looks back down.

“It’s just…he’s got to get better at all because of me.” He heaves a long sigh, “I shouldn’t be burdening you with this stuff but…It’s my fault. All of it.”

“I’m sure that isn’t true,” I say, making sure to look him in the eyes. “And I’m sure if I ask Bucky he’d say the same thing.”

Steve lets out a bitter laugh and looks away from me, “Yeah, he would.”

“Do you have people Steve?” I ask, _lonely_ not even beginning to describe the look on his face. It was like he was the only person left in the world. He thinks he has Bucky and that’s it.

He frowns and looks at me in confusion, “People?” He thinks on it a second then shakes his head, “No. Bucky has always been my person.”

“Family?”

“No.”

“Tell ya what. Me and Tommy we’ll be you and Barnes’s family. I’m sure if we asked Wilson and Peggy and Sharon they’d be a part of our family too. We care about you and we’re here okay?” I put my hand back on his shoulder, hoping my words let him know he didn’t have to be alone on this, “It was Bucky’s choice to follow you to war. What happened to him you couldn’t have predicted. And families? They’re supposed to do anything for each other, so let Bucky have his choice and be there to help him get better. ‘Cause Steve? We’re all still at war some days and some of us just need a bit more help coming home.”

 

~

 

“Barnes if you’ve been on that treadmill as long as they tell me you have you better have eaten at least half that sandwich I sent over with Steve,” I threaten, standing in the doorway to the VA’s gym, hands on my hips. He huffs out a breathless laugh and slowly brings the speed down until it stops. He then flops none too gracefully onto the floor and begins stretching. I come and sit next to him on the floor and wrinkle my nose, “Ugh, you smell Buck.”

“Sorry sweetheart, I meant to be cleaned up by the time ya got here,” he says twisting his back which cracks horribly.

I wince at the noise and he smiles apologetically. I try to ignore the fluttering in my stomach at the endearment. “You know this is the time I usually come over?”

“No way,” he grunts out, breaths still coming harder than usual. “Help me up?”

I stand and reach down to him hauling him up by the hand. “Now c’mon, Buck. Ya can’t be doing this to me. It gives me anxiety.”

He looks at me with concern as we make our way back to his room. “I give you anxiety?”

“Yeah,” I say bluntly. Then more gently, “You have to eat. You can’t be running at all hours of the day and eat nothin’. It isn’t good.”

He stays quiet as we pass the nurses’ station. Once past he says, “I try.” It’s curt and short, his tone irritated and angry. 

Once in his room he makes a beeline for the bathroom where he closes the door with more force than necessary. I sigh and sit down, wondering if I should just leave, clearly having ruined his good mood.

Instead I pour myself some coffee and settle down in one of the chairs at the table by the window. I’m not sure how much time passes when the bathroom door opens and Bucky emerges, hair wet and dripping onto his dark grey shirt, sweatpants slung low on his hips. It’s both horribly distracting and disturbing at the same time. On the one hand they are slung _low_ , on the other hand it reveals how thin he is, both shirt and sweatpants extremely baggy. I clear my throat and look away back out the window.

“You don’t know how much I wish you wouldn’t do that,” he says, reaching for my hand so he has a way to lower himself into the chair opposite me. Once seated he doesn’t let go of my hand, but holds it across the table. Bucky had gotten used to touch fairly quickly although he only tolerated it from Steve and I but did his best not to hiss at any of the nurses that had to touch him or any person that accidently brushed him. In fact in the last week he was the one to initiate contact and seemed to like it best that way, knowing he was controlling the situation.  

“Do what?”

“Sit in the window.”

“Why?”

“Why do you have to sit in the window?” He counters.

“I like to see the city lights.”

“I like to see you _alive_ ,” he says gripping my hand a bit harder, a bit painfully.

“Oh Bucky…” I whisper, “Nothin’s gonna happen.” The window, of course, left one very exposed. Exposed to bullets and snipers and all assortments of other deadly things.

He shakes his head, “I still wish you wouldn’t.” So, pull my hand out of his and move my chair around the table so we’re both out of the window’s view.

“Better?” He nods. “Good.”

For a while it’s quiet until he steals my hand back from my lap and says, voice shaking slightly, “I don’t do it on purpose, Artie, you have to believe me. Steve told me earlier that you thought I might be. It’s just the taste…there’s somethin’ off about it, somethin’ I can’t quite put my finger on but it makes me _sick_.”

It takes me a second to realize he’s talking about the food. “Somethin’ off?”

“Yeah. In the taste. It-it reminds me of something I just don’t know what and no matter how much I try to keep it down my body won’t let it stay down.” He threads his fingers through mine. “That muffin you gave me that first day was the first thing I’d had that didn’t make me nauseous.”

“Maybe it’s the hospital food then. Maybe you have a bad memory associated with it.”

He shrugs helplessly, “Hardly got any good ones so I suppose that’s probably true.”

Bucky is always breaking my heart with the things he says and today is no different. “Bucky…” I reach up cautiously, slowly, with my free hand and brush back some damp strands of hair so I can see his face.

“I know. I’m sorry.” He breathes out a small laugh, “’m always bringin’ the mood down.”

“No you aren’t. You’re just fulla shit and that’s okay.” He lets out a real laugh and I smile, happy that I managed to get it out of him.

“You’re hell on me y’know that, doll? You ain’t ever afraid to put me in my place.” My heart flutters at the word _doll_ , warmth pooling inside me even as I try to stomp it out.

“Who else is gonna be Buchanan? Stevie babies you too much to be good for you.”

“He’s just soft when it comes ta me.”

I nudge his shoulder with my own, “Yeah he is and you’re soft when it comes to him. That’s okay though. But what do you think about gettin’ food brought it from somewhere else? Maybe me and Steve could arrange it with the staff, make sure it meets nutritional standards and all that.”  

“Wouldn’t that cost us?”

“Buddy this place already costs ya.”

He shrugs and smiles, “I’ll talk to Steve about it.”

I squeeze his hand, “Good.” I glance at his hair still dripping onto his shirt and shiver, “Now would you let me do something about your hair? It’s making me cold just looking at it.”

 

~

 

Ten minutes later when his hair is warm and dry and fluffy from the blow dryer I scrape it up into a little bun and secure it with my extra hair tie. “There. Now, I’m trustin’ ya with my hair tie so you better not lose it, Barnes. Keep it safe, alright?” We’re in his bathroom, Bucky sitting on the closed toilet seat in front of me so I could more easily reach his hair.

“Yes, ma’am. I promise.”

“And go put on a hoodie I’m-,”

“-you’re freezing just looking at me.” He turns and glances over his shoulder at me and smiles, “I know, doll.”

I huff at him in annoyance as he turns to me fully, “Well it’s cold in here! _And_ it’s fall now so it’s cold outside as well.” I pat his shoulder gently, “Gotta keep ya warm Barnes.”

He’s suddenly gone very still, “Bucky?” His eyes have gone unfocused and glassy and I take a few steps back remembering the not entirely pleasant feeling of being slammed into the hard linoleum a month ago. “Buck?”

He looks confused, brows scrunched in concentration, mouth parted slightly. His tongue darts out of his mouth, fast and pink, to wet his lips before he says, “It was cold.”

I take a step back toward him, crouching down to his eye level but careful not to touch him, “What was?”

“Where they held me. Didn’t make sense, never did, even now. Why…Why was it _cold_? The desert was hot, always hot except for night but it couldn’t have been night all the time…” He trails off and his eyes slowly meet mine and he _sees_ me. He shakes his head and closes his eyes, “Sorry-,” he starts, sounding defeated.

I stand back up, crisis apparently averted. “You never have to apologize for that. But now I got even more of a reason to keep ya warm so come on.” I stick my hand out to him but he doesn’t take it and I try not to feel stung as he stands and brushes past me back out into his room.

I take a minute to myself, taking a few steadying breaths, unplugging the blow dryer and tucking it away. I close my eyes and count backward from ten and then stare at myself in the bathroom’s mirror. I tried not to let on how frightened I had been the day Bucky had thrown me to the ground. I had been terrified in fact, his large body on top of mine, crushing me downward, suffocating me. So, every time these glazed, unseeing trances happen it scares me more than I like to admit. I’m not afraid of Bucky but I am afraid of the way it makes me feel.

“Artie?” Bucky’s voice floats in from the other room cutting through my thoughts.

“I’m here,” I say and make my way to the other room. He’s brought out the coffee and pound cake from my bag, inspecting the pound cake with interest. What just happened in the bathroom apparently forgotten for the time being. I suddenly feel exhausted. As much as I care for Bucky, adore him in fact I can’t deny that these nightly trips are taking a toll on me.

I take my place at Bucky’s side again at the table. Bucky pours the coffee and splits the cake up fairly easily while I grab the TV remote and being flipping through the channels. When he reaches for my free hand with his own I deftly move it out of the way, reaching up to tuck some hair behind my ear. He frowns at me but doesn’t say anything about it.

After long bout of silence and two more failed attempts at taking my hand he turns to face me. “Are you okay?” His voice both worried and sharp, a strange mixture.

It isn’t a question I get often so I’m not sure how to answer at first. What is being _okay_ after all? “Yeah,” I decide this is good enough.

“Don’t bullshit me, Artie. I know I don’t ask you enough but you don’t have to lie about it when I do.” His tone is definitely leaning more toward harsh now.

“I’m _fine_.” I say, meeting his hard stare, “Like you don’t bullshit _me_ every day of the week anyways.”

He looks shocked at my outburst. He quickly snaps his mouth shut and shakes his head, “I don’t-,”

I look away from him, tears threatening to spill in the corners of my eyes. “You _do_. You _do_. And I can tell and most of the time I try to keep quiet about it but it hurts okay? It hurts me to see you hurt.”

It’s quiet except for the soft noises coming from the TV, the volume kept low. I start to think maybe he won’t say anything when he reaches over and finally captures my hand and brings it up to his mouth. His lips brush very tenderly over the back of my hand before he lowers our clasped palms, twisting our fingers together. My heart is beating wild in my chest as he begins speaking, his voice soft and easy, “I know it does. I do my best to tell you and Steve the truth about how I’m feeling but sometimes I think it’ll only make things worse.” He swallows thickly before he meets my eyes, “I just don’t like for you to feel like you ain’t doing any good because you are. You _are_. And if I’m havin’ a bad day I can’t imagine how that makes the two of you feel. It makes me feel like a failure and so I dunno…I think maybe it’s better if I don’t say anything.”

That Bucky is concerned about Steve and I’s feelings when he has bad days makes my heart ache. The guy had been through hell and back, suffered every day and still had a heart of gold, still concerned himself with other’s wellbeing and feelings. He pauses and tightens his hold on my hand, “So sometimes I forget to ask you. But you don’t gotta lie about it. I know I can’t be the easiest person to be around all the time. So, when I slip…when I uh, remember, or whatever that fucking daze is…I do my best to hide it cause I see how it hurts you. I know you were in the bathroom counting.”

I’m shocked, “How do you know I count?”

“It’s a coping mechanism and you only do it when you’re really upset. I noticed after your first couple of visits. Sometimes you move your mouth as you do it. It’s how I first noticed.”

I stare at him, wide eyed, before I master my shock. I didn’t know he paid that close of attention to me. I _definitely_ did not know he paid that much attention to my mouth. “Okay so let’s be honest,” I say, trying to shake _that_ thought out of my head, trying not to think about how soft his mouth had felt on the back of my hand.

“Okay,” he says, straightening in his seat, rubbing the back of my hand with his thumb.

“You’re really unsettled by whatever went on in your mind in the bathroom. But it was something you already knew.”

“Yes,” he says and I tug on his hand giving him a small smile. “I don’t know what to do after something like that. I remember most of what happened there…or I _think_ I do.” His voice shakes a little as he admits this.

“Talk about it,” I say gently, “Me or Steve or Sam if you want.”

He ignores my advice and says, “You’re really exhausted. Doing this takes a toll on you. You aren’t okay.”

“Bucky…”

“Yes or no?”

I stare at him and press my lips into a thin line, then look away from him, “ _Taking my job Barnes_ ,” I mutter under my breath.

“What was that?”

I meet his eyes again and sigh, “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I regret it. I like doing this. I like being your friend.”

He smiles but looks slightly pained, “Never said you didn’t.” He pauses, “Tell ya what though how about I tell ya about some stuff,” He swallows harshly, “Not-not a lot, y’know just somethin’ and you go and do something fun. Maybe you and Steve go and see a baseball game.”

Stupidly, the only reply I can come up with is, “Baseball season is over.”

He rolls his eyes, “Football then doll. Just somethin’ to get you away from this block for a few hours.”

“This seems like I’m gettin’ the better deal.”

“Nah,” he says, squeezing my hand, “I get to tell a beautiful girl my sorrows. What more can I ask for than that?” 

  

    

     


	10. Cold

They move to the bed, lying back in the dark, a shared blanket spread over their bodies. Bucky is nervous about this for several reasons the first of which being that they’re sharing a bed, no matter how innocent the circumstances, no matter how glad he is to have her so close. Second, Bucky has agreed to, nay, _suggested_ talking about his past. His horrifying, bloody (from what he thinks he can remember) past. Third, and possibly worst of all, he practically just set up his girl on a date with his best friend. _His girl?_ He thinks, _Jesus Christ he really is fucked._

She turns on her side, hands pillowed under her head, and gazes at him, waiting patiently for him to start speaking. He swallows thickly and tries to settle his racing heart. He’s an idiot he knows that. Steve likes Peggy but at the same time Steve hasn’t done anything about it exactly and so there’s the possibility of his also liking someone else. And Steve does spend an awful lot of time with Artie so maybe he likes her too. Bucky could kick himself. It’s not like it matters anyways, Artemis is just a friend. She’s kind to him because she cares about him sure, because they’re _friends_ , but nothing more than that. _I like being your friend,_ she had said and it had been difficult to keep the pain and disappointment off his face. And the fact that Artemis hadn’t put up a fight about his suggestion reaffirmed what Bucky already knew: Steve is preferable, better, _normal_. He isn’t broken, at least not in the disastrous and probably irreparable way that Bucky is.

Artemis cares about Bucky, he knows that now, there isn’t a doubt about that in his mind. And maybe that would just have to be good enough.

“-Buck?” He looks over at her, to see that bit of fear creeping back into her eyes that he’s slipping away to that unreachable place in his mind.

“It was always cold,” He jumps right into it because why beat around the bush and maybe it’ll stop him thinking about how _warm_ she feels lying next to him even though they aren’t touching. He wishes he could take her hand but they’re both tucked underneath her head at the moment. “And dark mostly,” he swallows thickly, “so there wasn’t really a way to mark days. No way to tell _where_ I was. I want to ask Steve. I think if I asked him he would know.”

“Why don’t you ask him?” She asks softly as she untucks one of her hands and offers it to him, palm up. He carefully twines his fingers through hers and keeps their hands pressed near to his side. He feels better, he realizes, with her hand in his. His racing heart slows, his breathing evens out, and the room doesn’t feel as dark even though the bedside lamp is already on. Bucky doesn’t feel as alone.

“I’m afraid of the answer. When they….when Steve came back for me…they had just finished-finished…” He swallows back tears, embarrassed and frustrated.

“You can skip over whatever bits you want Buck,” she reminds him gently. Artemis’s voice is shaky, heavy with suppressed emotion. She wants to know what happened to him, is morbidly curious, but also frightened at the endless horrible possibilities of what could have happened. He wants to tell her, knows she won’t flinch away from the revelation but he isn’t quite ready to make it known.

So, he says, “When Steve came back for me I was mostly unconscious. They air lifted me and I didn’t really know what was happening at all. I never got to see it, see the place they-,” he stops himself again.

She takes her fingers out from between his and for a second Bucky is _petrified_ that he misread her, that he should not say these things to her, no matter how vague. Her expression is unreadable as she stares at his hand, large and callused and scarred and- Artemis brings her other hand out from beneath her head and wraps both of hers around his. She forces his hand into a fist and cups her smaller hands securely around it. Artemis then looks over at him, a deep sadness in her eyes, “Does that bother you? That you didn’t get to see?”

“Yes.” She nods, waits.

When he doesn’t elaborate or go on Artie says, “As much or as little as you want. If that’s all you wanna say that’s okay.”

Bucky uncurls his fingers and threads them back through hers. She cups her other hand around the back of his, smoothing her thumb over the skin there. “I was only ever in that dark room and one other room but I’m not ready to talk about that one yet,” he grates out quickly. Then more slowly and deliberately, a quiet anger behind his words, he says, “I woulda loved to see that place from the outside, see if it was sorta normal or some place you coulda guessed what was goin’ on only no one did anything about it.”

“Shhhh, hey it’s okay, hon, you’re here with me. I’m here with you,” she shushes him softly, comfortingly. “You’re alright. You aren’t there anymore.” Bucky hadn’t realized his breathing had become labored again as he spoke or that he was squeezing the life out of her fingers, tears flowing down his face.

With a little effort Bucky manages to ease his grip on her hand a little. He doesn’t bother wiping away the tears, not wanting to let go of her hand, afraid that if he does he’ll find out this is all one big hallucination. Yeah, _they_ would think this is fucking hilarious.

Bucky inhales a large lungful of air and lets it shakily back out. “I think,” He says thickly, gruffly, “That’s all I can say right now.”

“Okay,” she says, voice soft and smooth and nothing like _theirs_ were. “Buck? Hey I’m sorry I shoulda never-,”

“I wanted to. It was my idea.” He pauses and for a few moments it’s quiet and seemingly serene. Morning sun is just beginning to filter in through the blinds, watery and cool. And Bucky feels better, not good, not like the heaviness was gone but lighter certainly, less hollow. He knows he didn’t say much at all but it was a lot more than he’d ever said about that place before. “I think I did alright.” 

“You did great, Buck.” She smooths her thumb over the back of his hand, slow and firm, grounding him. “Can I tell Sam and Steve? Not what you said, just that you did.”

Bucky grips her hand harder, thinking that this is her way of letting him know she’s leaving for the time being. “Yeah, yeah, just that I did.” He starts to let her hand go and she frowns over at him. “I’ll see ya at lunch. Or tonight or whenever you want-,” He doesn’t ever want her to feel pressured to be there with him. He wants her to be there because she _wants_ to be there.

“You want me to go?” She frowns as he frees his hand.

“I never want ya to go, doll,” he says, attempting a cheeky smile but he knows it’ll just look tense.

She pulls his hand back tightly into hers, “I could use a bit of a nap.” And with that Artemis settles in next to him, curling in on herself a bit. Artemis’s forehead is pressed very lightly into his bicep. One hand tangles their fingers together and the other wraps lightly around his wrist.  

Bucky smiles and closes his eyes, trying not to think about that other room and very, very glad for her warm presence.

 

~

 

“You told her about that?”

“Not much.”

“What did you say?” They had just come from a session with Sam.

Bucky glares at Steve where he sits across from him in a waiting room area. They had decided to go for a walk around the hospital afterwards and ended up sitting here at Bucky’s suggestion who could not deal with walking past Sharon at the nurses’ station who looked so _knowing_ after she had found Artemis asleep, curled into his side a few days ago. She probably wasn’t there but the possibility made Bucky willing to brave this unfamiliar room. Bucky only shrugs at his friend not willing to go through those emotions again so soon. It’s been a few days but he still doesn’t think he can stand it.

Steve sighs, frustrated, “I wish you would say these things with Sam, Buck.” Bucky doesn’t feel like he should. Steve knows about the dark room and the place where he was kept, had _seen_ it in fact, and so Bucky shouldn’t have to go over all that with them again right? Steve could just tell Sam. And in any case Bucky didn’t particularly like going over it anyways.

Bucky schools his face into an emotionless mask and stares at the wall behind Steve’s head, finished talking about it. Steve lets his head fall back, brings both of his hands up to his hair and tugs at the short, blond strands in irritation, groaning. Bucky could be the most insolent, difficult bastard sometimes. Steve glances back at his friend and says, “Would you rather do those sessions with Artemis? I won’t be offended. I don’t care as long as you’re getting help.”

Bucky looks highly affronted and scandalized at the prospect, “ _No_. No, Stevie, I’m doin’ those with you for a reason.”

“Well could ya tell me what it is? ‘Cause I feel like I’m missing something.”

The truth is Bucky still feels sick trying to talk about it in Sam’s presence on top of feeling like he shouldn’t _have_ to because they should already fucking know. These things he’s supposed to talk about now are difficult and personal and horrible enough so why didn’t Steve just tell Wilson himself about the things he already knew, had seen for himself? And the suggestion and prospect of sharing intimate moments with Artemis in front of Wilson is enough to deter Bucky from ever even considering the idea of taking her to therapy. “I’ll try harder,” is all he says to Steve curtly.

“Bucky, I’m just sayin’-,”

“I know! I know I’m hopeless okay? I didn’t even say anything important to her. She-,” he stands up suddenly feeling exposed and agitated, aware that he’s making a scene and people are looking and anxiety is clawing its way up from his stomach and-

“I’ll see ya around,” he says tightly and lowly enough that no one but Steve could have heard.

“Bucky!” Steve shouts after him as soon as he’s recovered from the shock of his friend’s outburst. Steve catches him at the elevator that they thankfully get to themselves. “Buck, I wasn’t-,”

“I know. I know, okay? I got it. I’m supposed to say these things in therapy but it ain’t that easy. It just…isn’t.” He sighs out a breath through his nose and grips the metal arm bar attached to the side of the elevator. “It’s hard. I only…I only really said that it was cold and dark and you already _know_ that.” He says desperately, hoping Steve will understand.

“But that’s _progress_ -,”

Bucky lets out an annoyed sound that Steve just _isn’t getting it_ , as the elevator doors open. He exits the elevator and walks as fast as he can without running to put some distance between himself and Steve. As he rounds the corner in the hallway Bucky nearly collides headlong with Artemis who’s standing at the counter of the nurses’ station talking to one of the nurses called Michael, a goofy grin on her face. Bucky let’s out an involuntary growl at the man, already irritated and angry, before grabbing Artie’s wrist and hauling her toward his room, Steve still struggling to catch up. Artemis had been smiling as she talked to Michael, trying to discern Bucky’s whereabouts, but it fades from her face quickly as Bucky drags her none too gently down the hall with surprising strength.   

They enter his room and Artie attempts to yank her hand away from him, pissed about being manhandled, “Bucky? What the _hell_ -,”

He crushes her to him in a hug, knocking the breath out of her. Artemis is so shocked by the sudden full body contact that she can’t immediately find her voice, anger dissipating as she hears his voice. “I can’t do it. Please. I _can’t_ talk about it.” Artie relaxes and tries to ignore the warm feeling that spreads through her at the feel of his arm wrapped around her back. She tentatively wraps her own arms around him, resting her chin on his good shoulder. She begins to rub her fingers up and down his spine as Steve appears in the doorway behind Bucky. She gives him a questioning look but Steve only looks, stricken and panicked, at his friend’s back. As her fingers continue their gentle ministrations Artemis feels the hard, lean muscles of his back and tries not to think about them too much. Her face only turns slightly red.

“It’s okay, Buck,” she coos at him, “Nobody’s gonna make ya talk, huh? It’s alright.”

Steve comes fully into the room and sits in one of the bedside chairs, head in his hands, elbows braced on his knees, fingers scrubbing roughly through his hair. Artie stands with Bucky who is taking shaky breaths. “What’s goin’ on guys?” Her wrist pangs dully from Bucky’s rough treatment but she ignores it. Neither of them answer her question so she just keeps rubbing Bucky’s back in hopes that he’ll pull away himself and explain.  

After a few minutes of silence she pulls away, Bucky’s grip tightening on her as she does trying to keep her in place. “C’mon,” she says and guides him to sit on the edge of the bed. She takes a step back and glances between the two of them. “Somebody gonna tell me or do I just need to go?”

Bucky looks over at Steve, “Steve,” he says, sounding gruff, “I can’t.”

Steve doesn’t look up from the floor, “Can’t and won’t are two different things, Bucky.” His voice is detached and hollow.

Artemis tries to remember where she’s heard that before as Bucky stares at his friend, disbelief in his eyes. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing _what_?”

Bucky shakes his head, “Forget it.”

“Bucky,” Steve pleads, finally looking up from the floor, “I just want you to be able to get better and you can’t do that if-,”

“I’m _trying_ don’t you get that?” He says, voice cracking, “I’m sorry it doesn’t always come out at the most opportune times. And besides you already know, _you already know_ , what I told her. Why do you want to make me go through it again? Why do you want to make me relive it?” His voice is raw and strained with emotion by the time he finishes.

“Bucky…” Steve says, guilt in his voice because he finally understands his friend and why he’s being so resistant.

He just shakes his head. Steve begs with him for a few more minutes to see his side of things and to apologize but Bucky has suddenly gone completely mute again.

“Stevie?” Steve sighs and looks up at Artemis, pained expression on his face. She lays a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Take a breather, huh? Go find Sam, maybe have a bit of a chat.”

He nods and takes his leave, pausing only briefly to lay a hand lightly on Bucky’s shoulder, a silent apology. Bucky looks betrayed when she turns to him. “Don’t give me that look, Buchanan. I wanna know what’s goin’ on.”

Bucky stares at her for a few seconds before patting the space next to himself on the bed. She sits and he talks.

When he finishes telling her what happened in the waiting room she says, entirely without humor, “Oh Bucky boy what’re we gonna do with ya.”

“What do you mean?”

“Steve’s just gettin’ a little ahead of himself is all. I’m sure that’s what Sam’ll tell him when he finds him.”

Bucky assesses her for a few seconds before he nudges her knee gently with his own, “Explain,” he requests softly.

“You’ve been doing so well recently that in Steve’s mind everything should be as easy as all the rest. Like tellin’ me something and tellin’ Sam something should be relatively the same.”

“It isn’t-,”

“I know. I know, Buck. Steve just wants you do to better. He doesn’t mean anything by it.”

“I _am_ doing better, Artie.” He says desperately.

“You are,” she agrees. “You really are.”

“But he-,”

“Blames himself.” She pauses and gently loops her arm through his. “Steve blames himself and so it’s very important to him that you do well in those sessions. He’s just gotten a bit ahead of himself. I think he’s forgotten recovery doesn’t come all at once or the way you expect it to. Especially not the _talking it out_ bit. But Buck…”

“What?”

“What you told me, Steve already knew?” He nods. “So you felt he should have told Sam already?” Another nod, “Hon, that isn’t the point of therapy. It isn’t just to tell what happened but to work through the trauma that comes with it. Work through what the dark and the cold _means_. That’s why Steve wants ya to talk with Sam there even if it’s about something he already knows.”

Bucky sits quietly and mulls over what Artemis has just said, glad for her grounding presence. After a while he lets out a long breath, “Well now I feel like an ass.”

She laughs, a warm sound, and Bucky smiles, “You’re both asses.”

“You’re supposed to say, ‘No, Bucky _of_ _course_ you aren’t an ass’,” he nudges her playfully.

“Well I don’t wanna _lie_ …” She takes her arm out of his and pats his bicep gently, “But really, I think the two of you just misunderstood each other.” Her eyes soften as she looks at him, become a bit sadder, “He just wants ya to do better, babydoll.”

He tries not react to the sudden affectionate endearment, tries not to let on how much he immediately _likes_ it. He swallows roughly and says, “I don’t want to-,” his voice cracks and he stops again.

“Go over what you think you don’t have to?” He nods. She shrugs and says sadly, “Sometimes you just gotta.”

He knows but that doesn’t make it any easier.  

 

~

 

Artemis moves to sit at the table after a few minutes of comfortable silence, taking her body heat and warmth with her, Bucky still feeling the ghost of her warm fingers on his bicep. He shivers at the loss for a moment before silently cursing the hospital for being so damn cold. He knows the hospital’s temperature has nothing to do with the sudden cool emptiness he feels. After Bucky’s request that she not sit in front of the window anymore, she hasn’t, putting him more at ease about her sitting at the table. Her profile is lit by the midday sun shining through the window and Bucky has to shake himself a little but still doesn’t manage to stop staring at her angelic outline or thinking about her mouth forming the word babydoll and the things, feelings it had invoked in him. _Babydoll._ He shouldn’t like the way it sounds so much, shouldn’t have loved being call that but he _did_. He wants her to say it again, call him that again, but that isn’t something you can just request from a person.

She turns her head suddenly and catches him staring, a truly blinding bright smile lights up her face. “What’re ya looking at, Barnes?”

He shakes his head, glancing away. The sudden, unsummoned image of her naked beneath him, eyes rolled back in pleasure, fingers trailing down his chest, the soft caress of the word babydoll on her lips is too much for him. He clears his throat gruffly and stares determinedly at the floor. He’s been quiet for too long now for a witty comment and he knows if he looks up she’ll be staring at him worriedly. Bucky also knows his face will be red as a tomato. He’s _fucked_ , so utterly and completely fucked. When he manages to compose himself he looks back at her only to find her rifling through the cabinet in the corner of the room. Bucky frowns wondering what she’s up to, wondering about anything really to keep his mind from trailing to the word babydoll and the imagery that comes along with it.

She pulls a gray hoodie out of the cabinet, _Army Strong_ written on the front of it in a yellow-green color. She walks over to him and nonchalantly stuffs it over his head. Bucky doesn’t even have time to be shocked as his head pops through the hole and he stares at her face so dangerously close to his as she leans forward, grinning like a maniac. “Warm, Bucky, we gotta keep you warm.” Artie leans back and grins wider, proud of herself. “Now I gotta go back to the café. When Steve comes back I want you guys to talk it out, got it?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He says, pushing his arm through the sleeve and adjusting the hoodie over his body. She starts to back away toward the door when he reaches out for her. She takes a few steps back toward him and puts her hand in his outstretched one. He presses their fingers together and tugs her a little closer, trying not to let his thought of thinking of her as _his_ _girl_ , from a few days previous, float through his head. _But she is_ , he thinks half-desperately, _she’s_ my _girl_. She’s smiling gently down at him and he has the sudden urge to stand up and kiss her. He doesn’t.

He doesn’t because he’s broken. He doesn’t because his mind is wrecked and so is his soul most days. He doesn’t because his body isn’t whole and uncut. He doesn’t because she’s so good to him and he can’t lose that. He doesn’t because she’s beautiful and kind and warm and he’s not. He doesn’t because he knows that kissing her can’t possibly work out in his favor. He doesn’t most of all because she’s too good for him, too whole. She deserves to be on the arm of someone that’s complete and unbroken. Someone who isn’t him. Someone better.  

But she’s always surprising him and today is no different as she leans down and presses her lips very softly to his scruffy cheek. “I’ll see ya around, Bucky dear.”


	11. Something Fun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right! So, this chapter is a bit shorter and also rather fluffy. Regularly scheduled pain and angst will be back in the next chapter. Thanks for reading, lovelies.

“So…why are we doing this again?” Steve asks, warily eyeing the raucous crowd around us.

“I made a deal with your demon of a best friend.” I say as I tug on Steve’s arm a bit harder, trying to elbow through the throng of people.

“What the hell kinda deal was that?” He asks, laughter in his voice. Steve and Bucky had made up not that they had really been in a fight but things are back to normal. Steve had apologized to Bucky for expecting too much of him and Bucky had apologized for ‘being a little shit’. A week later Bucky is trying his very best not only to give up information but also talk about how he feels. Neither of the men will tell me how it’s going and so I don’t ask. So now, crisis averted, I’m keeping up on my side of my deal with Bucky. The ‘do something _fun’_ command.

“The kind where I gotta take your sorry ass on a date,” I quip, then wrinkle my nose, “Not much fun at all really.”  

He pinches my side as we finally make it through the mass of football fans exiting the stadium. The game had been a good one, loud and anxiety inducing, but a close one and fun nonetheless. Steve remains of the opinion that baseball is better however and I’m hard-pressed not to agree.  

“Where are we goin’ now?”

“Well Steven you’re supposed to buy a girl dinner y’know,” I say cheekily as Steve attempts to summon a cab.

“Shut it,” he says, smiling. “I know where we’re gonna go.”

 

~

 

Steve has taken me to a rather shitty Italian restaurant in Brooklyn. There are holes in the walls and the floor needs scrubbed. The tables are sticky and the lights flicker, their shades dotted with rust and age. But, dammit if it isn’t the best Italian food I’ve ever had. The owner thinks Steve and I are a couple so he let us have the most secluded booth in the place. Steve’s whole face had turned red when the man clapped his hands together and said, “A beautiful girl! A very pretty couple! I get you the best seats!”

Steve hadn’t mastered his shock in time, stuttering out something unintelligible, before I grabbed his arm, pressed myself eagerly into his side and said, “He’s a bit of trouble but I do love him!” At that point Steve had been red all the way from his forehead down into the collar of his shirt.

The man had beamed at us and now we have a complimentary bottle of wine, the owner a bit of a romantic. I smile at Steve over my spaghetti. “What is it Rogers? Am I not pretty enough to be your girl?”

He starts to stammer something out again, choking a bit on the water he was sipping as I said that. Steve coughs then says, “No! I mean, I- yeah you’re beautiful. I just-I-,”

But I’m already laughing again, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I like you too Rogers. When’s the wedding?”

He just glares at me this time. “Be careful what you say.”

“Does that mean you really do love me?” He turns red again and I’m having too much fun embarrassing him so I say, “What if he expects us to kiss?”

“God, Artie, you sound so eager I’m startin’ to think you might have a thing for me.” He says as he twirls his fork in _my_ spaghetti. I slap his hand away but not before he makes off with some of my pasta. He sticks his tongue out at me.

“Finally get your wits back around you, Rogers?” I smile, “And didn’t your mother ever teach you to chew with your mouth closed?”

He shakes his head and looks at the bottle of wine, “I should pay for this before we leave.” My chest aches a little at his concern, Steve perpetually trying to do the right thing. A small smile finds its way onto my face.

“Aw Steve c’mon you’ll insult the man if you do that. Can’t you see how happy it made him to give it to us?”

“Happy on a lie.”

“Right now it isn’t. Right now we’re Mr. and soon to be Mrs. Rogers on our first date since you proposed and we’re very happy and normal people.” I say, stabbing a meatball.

Steve’s red again and rubs at the back of his neck, looking down and then up at me through his lashes, “You’re somethin’ else you know that?”

“That’s what they tell me. Now gimme some of that Alfredo would ya?” He pushes his plate toward me and grabs another breadstick for himself, looking distracted suddenly. I slow my enthusiastic chewing and watch him glance around the place. “You and Bucky grow up around here?”

He nods, stuffing some bread into his mouth. “Few blocks over.”

“What was Bucky like before? Peggy told me a few days ago you said he used to be a ladies man.” I ask glad for the chance to glean a bit of information about Bucky from Steve.

Steve thinks for a minute then says, “His hair was shorter.”

I stare at him for a few seconds, thinking I might have misheard him, then burst out laughing.

Steve looks scandalized, “What?”

“I ask you what-what your friend-d was like and the first th-thing that comes to mind is his _hair_?” I ask, laughing too hard to speak properly.

Steve rolls his eyes at me as I double over laughing and the restaurant owner stops by to open the wine for us, smiling fondly. He looks to Steve and says, “A girl with a good laugh is not one you should give up easily.” The man sounds so much like a fortune cookie that it only makes me laugh harder.

Steve looks horrified as the man leaves us again humming softly as I finally manage to control my laughter. “Jesus, Steve, stop looking so offended it’s starting to hurt my feelings.” I sip the wine and smile so he knows I’m joking but I only get another eye roll. “So, Bucky had short hair. That’s kinda hard to picture. Have you got pictures? On your phone?”

He brings out his phone, checking to see if he might have any as he says, “Peggy got it wrong. He wasn’t a ladies man. Good with women certainly but never anything but a gentleman to them. He just charmed everyone he met. Didn’t matter who you were. Everybody loved Bucky.”

“Did he ever have a girl?” I ask, fearing the answer more than I’d like to admit.

Steve shrugs, “Not one that was ever around for long.” I hate the relief that spreads through me at his words. He takes his plate back from me before I can eat all of his food, “He was happier that’s for sure. Outgoing, friendly.”

“Just your regular good guy, huh?” I ask.

“Yeah,” Steve finally locates a suitable picture on his phone and turns it toward me. I take it from him to examine more closely, inhaling sharply as I do.

“Aw Steve he’s a baby in this picture!” Young Bucky had short hair swept neatly to the side, a bright smile, and a face completely free of facial hair. There weren’t yet lines on his face and his smile was happy, genuine, and bright. His blue eyes seemed lighter than I’d ever seen them. He was maybe twenty in the photo.  

“See? Shorter hair. It’s the first thing you notice.”

“Don’t be a little shit I’m emotional right now.” I zoom the picture in. “Poor, poor baby. He was so handsome! I don’t believe you about his not having a girl.”

“ _Was_ handsome huh?” Steve asks, sly smile on his face. “And here I thought you drooled over him now.”

I ignore the drooling comment. “He’s still handsome just a different kind of handsome.” I hand his phone back and he tucks it away. “He was _pretty_ then, Steve. Now he’s more…I don’t know…rugged?”

“I wish he was here to hear you call him handsome and pretty just to see his face turn red.”

“Like I haven’t had _you_ in a perpetual state of blushing all night.”

“Well you are my wife.”

I point my fork at him, “Soon-to-be wife, Rogers. Don’t get ahead of yourself.” 

“Right, right, soon-to-be.” He has that shit-eating grin on his face again when he says, “Probably shouldn’t let the pretty baby know that we’re getting married though. He’ll probably be jealous.”

I snort out a laugh and Steve frowns at me, obviously not the reaction he was expecting, “Right, real jealous.”

“He would be,” Steve says so seriously that I look up from my task of gathering the last bits of pasta from my plate. I lift a brow at him. “Oh c’mon Artie. I thought you were a smart girl.”

“What?”

“Bucky _adores_ you. He would be heartbroken about our engagement, even just a fake one,” Steve says, his voice genuine and sincere. It injects panic into my veins.

“I thought he had a thing for Sharon?” I try to joke, my stomach roiling with anxiety.

“Artie…” he says sternly. “Really you don’t see it?”

“See what? I think you might be delusional, Rogers. Did you hit your head recently?” I say much too quickly to be casual, refusing to meet Steve’s eyes.

Steve just stares at me, firm and serious. “Could ya quit jokin’ around for a second?”

“Sorry,” I reply, sheepishly, twisting my hands together in my lap anxiously. Steve notices and his eyes soften.

“What’s wrong, Artie?” His eyes are concerned, “You don’t feel the same way? That’s okay y’know I didn’t mean to-,”

I reach out and put my hand over Steve’s own, resting on the table. “I just don’t think it’s a fair conversation to be having.” I pause, trying to calm my racing heart and force down my guilt, “He’s sick, Stevie. I’m just the first person that came along. And even if he does feel that way I would be a horrible person to go along with it, even if I felt the same way. He’s vulnerable and I would be taking advantage of him.”

Steve frowns at me but thankfully lets the subject drop, squeezing my hand in understanding. “I don’t think you would be, the concern shows that, but I understand.” I pat his hand and take mine back as he says, “You’ll come around eventually. Both of you.”


	12. Recollection and Resolve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello! This chapter (in my opinion) is a bit more intense than usual so, look out for that. Also, I would really love to know what you think of it. Anyways, happy reading!

Steve and Artemis had come to the hospital to visit Bucky after their excursion to watch a football game and traipse through Brooklyn after eating some very good Italian food. Bucky wishes they wouldn’t have.

They had come through the door, quite late at night, smiling and talking, bundled up in scarves and coats, noses pink from the cold. Bucky had noticed Steve’s hand at the small of Artie’s back, guiding her into the room ahead of him. Bucky had grit his teeth and tried not to think about it too much but he really couldn’t fight down the jealousy for long before he was sullen and angry because that’s _his fucking girl,_ no matter what he tries to tell himself; that’s how he thinks of her _._ He had also tried not to think about how _he_ was the reason for their fucking _date_. They had sat at the table with him and Artemis had teased him about keeping Steve out of fights when they were children. Bucky was only slightly irritated by this rendition as he couldn’t really remember having ever done that, only vaguely did it sound familiar, like something he knows he would do if the situation arose.

Her smile had been bright and lovely, her cheeks a delicate shade of pink, eyes sparking in delight as she told him everything that she and Steve had done together. He had tried to smile and listen but he felt himself slipping further and further away from the two people in front of him and toward that dark space in his mind. The place that whispered that he wasn’t good enough, not worth it, a burden more than he would ever be a pleasure. The place in his mind that he hadn’t visited in nearly a month that screamed at him to _just end it already_. Because as these two people talked to him he had never felt more separate from them, more different and alien and broken and just _not enough_. 

And he thinks Artemis or Steve might have noticed his growing distress if they hadn’t been slightly tipsy on a free bottle of wine they had gleaned from somewhere. The circumstances around that story had been strangely vague.

Then they had _left_. Just gotten up and gone home, like he hadn’t really mattered at all. Artemis hadn’t tugged on his hand affectionately and Steve hadn’t pressed his hand into Bucky’s shoulder. Now he’s been nearly 24 hours without human contact and he’s starting to feel disconnected and vaguely sick. He had come to rely on their touch, their presence, and their comforting words to ground him, to make him feel real. Just a month ago he hadn’t been able to stomach touching anyone and now he craved it, and felt less like a person without it.

And so now Bucky sits alone at four in the morning when he’s used to feeling very much not alone. But now he _is_ alone and the constricting feeling in his chest is starting to move away from uncomfortable and toward painful, his breathing becoming more labored. Steve had been out with Artie all day so Bucky had been alone most of the day except all the different types of fucking therapy he went to. But that didn’t count as _not alone_ as he couldn’t talk to any of those people. And Artie who’s nearly always with him at this time of day, a warm, comfortable, reassuring presence isn’t here either to make up for the day of companionless-ness. She had been tipsy, and tired from a long day. And so he’s alone. He’s _alone_. But then again wasn’t he always?

He chokes back tears and scrambles to the bathroom to dry heave, as he’d already thrown up everything he’d eaten that day. He feels absolutely pathetic and worthless and generally just like shit, as he slumps against the cool tile flooring when nothing (as expected) will come up. He can’t expect them to spend every minute of every day there babying him and he had been the one to make them go out and get away from the hospital.

Eventually he makes it back to bed and a few hours later Sharon comes to visit him and take his vitals but he doesn’t look at her when recently he had begun nodding at her when she came in. Peggy comes in and speaks to him but he doesn’t hear her. Apparently he concerned Sharon enough for her to fetch her cousin. “-Rogers’ll be here soon Barnes, okay?” Bucky almost asks her to stay but he doesn’t want to speak to her and he knows she has rounds to do, other patients to attend to and so he says nothing.

He feels himself nod and turns away from her. His chest feels empty now, his heart heavy. It isn’t their fault, he knows that. But shouldn’t they have known to check on him at least? Bucky closes his eyes not able to keep them open any longer.

 

 

_It’s dark. Always dark. The only light there ever is comes from a very slim crack under the door of the damp cell and most of the time there isn’t even that. His shoulder aches and so does his hip as he lies on the freezing cold floor. He knows why his shoulder aches but he couldn’t say what happened to his hip. Bucky does his best to try to remember what happened to his hip if only to stop thinking about what happened to his arm and what had come with that loss._

_It’s also cold, freezing in fact. If he had a light he would probably be able to see the cloud of his breath around him. They had thrown him back in this room without a shirt but had left him his combat trousers after their last visit. Disorientation overcomes him as he tries to remember what happened the last time the light under the door came on. Come to think of it his chest hurts too. What happened? Why couldn’t he remember?_

_Needles. Men in lab coats. A light overhead so bright he couldn’t see their faces. Right, they had stuck needles into him, injected him with something, cut him here and there for what purpose he can’t rightly say. All these thoughts pass through Bucky in a detached fashion, as though it isn’t him they’ve been cutting on and poking around in._

_But no, if it were someone else Bucky would do more to try and stop it. But he knows he deserves this, this hell, this nightmare. That’s one thing they made sure he knew. It’s his fault. The rest of the team had been killed and it’s entirely his fault. He had asked after Steve, had needed to know. All they had said was that they took care of him. He had cried and they had hit him, his cheek smarting for nearly a week afterwards, but that had been the least of his problems. But, at least if Steve is dead, he can’t be suffering the same fate as Bucky and so he tells himself its better this way._

_The crevice under the door is suddenly visible again as a light in the hall outside his cell comes on. He’s both glad to see the light again and dreading what that light means. The door is flung open and Bucky’s light deprived eyes can’t adjust quickly enough as two men come into the room, force him up from the floor and shove him forward into the hall._

_They force him into a walk, speaking in a language he doesn’t understand, prodding him forward with what feels like a stick, as though he’s too contaminated to touch. Someone suddenly grabs his mangled and still sensitive, healing shoulder and he falls to the ground, screaming as they laugh, the sudden pain makes his vision black out for a few seconds. Bucky knows that if he had had anything in his stomach it would have come up. A jeering voice shouts at him in English, “On your feet, soldier! On your feet!” Another poke from the rod, more laughing. Tears stream down his face as he struggles to his feet and stumbles down the hall._

_When he finally makes it to the other room he glances himself in the two-way mirror set into the wall. His hair is longer than he remembers ever having had it, certainly more facial hair, the thick scars on his shoulder standing out in the harsh light, the rest of his visible body scared and pale. His face is bruised and bloody though he can’t remember how it came to be that way, circles under his eyes. He’s shoved to his knees suddenly and finally finds out what it is they’ve been poking him with as they turn on the electrified prod and shove it into his side. Dazed from the electricity and unsure if he had been screaming or not they lift him onto the table in the center of the room, strapping him down. Leather straps fit over his wrist and ankles and abdomen._

_He knows what comes next and can’t find it in himself to protest it too much because he_ deserves _this. Steve is dead because of him. All those guys are dead because of him, their families suffering, mourning because of him. He doesn’t want them to break him however and so he fights them anyways, struggling against the leather until he’s shocked again, this time in the neck. The room is all dark except for the operation room-like lights above the table he’s strapped to. The walls are cement and weeping as the ones in his cell do, moisture clotting the air. Tools lay on benches all around the room mixed horribly, obscenely with medical equipment._

_They hover over him, faceless and nameless, chattering and chattering, to whoever is behind that mirror. But something is different this time. They abruptly step away from the table and simultaneously point to the door. He looks, dreading whatever is about to happen._

_People shuffle into the room and Bucky recognizes all of them. Everyone from the team, he lets out a strangled cry as they file in, looking sadly at him, almost pityingly. Then Steve bleeding, uniform painted in blood enters, smiling brokenly at him. No, they were supposed to be dead. He tries to apologize but nothing comes out. Tries to shout for them as they stare at him. He struggles against the straps. He has to get them out,_ has to _, because if they were alive he would not let them end up like him. Then someone else sidles through the door and Bucky stops struggling for a moment to identify the person. It’s Steve, a smaller Steve, skinny and pale, hands in his pockets looking around the room with only mild curiosity. Bucky knows he’s losing it now. Steve hasn’t looked like that since he hit his first growth spurt. Steve looks at him, smiles and waves, “Hey, Buck!” And then falls in line next to the rest. The faceless lab coats are all perfectly still, still pointing at the door and so Bucky know it isn’t over yet._

_Another Steve walks through the door, looking confused, and older than the other two Steves, dressed in civilian clothes. There’s a knowing pain in his eyes that isn’t present in the other two. “Hey, Bucky,” he says solemnly and Bucky tries to shout for him but he realizes suddenly that his mouth is sewn shut. How could he have not realized before? One of the lab coats grab the last Steve and forces him to his knees and Steve goes down easily, smiling sadly._

_The last person to come through the door Bucky doesn’t recognize. A woman wearing an apron and a strained smile. Her eyes sparkle as they find Bucky. She starts to say something before she too is forced to her knees, as someone lands a sharp kick on the back of her thigh. And Bucky can’t stop staring at her, something eerily familiar about her, her strangled cry of pain going straight to his heart, enraging him more than he thought possible. When Bucky finally looks away from her he realizes that the other Steves and the team are gone. He glances around the room, the lab coats are gone as well. When he looks back to Artemis (Artemis! That’s her name!) and Steve, whom he could never forget, are covered in blood, their faces bruised, bodies broken. Bucky sucks in a sharp breath through his nose as he takes in their damaged forms. He’s right here how could he have not-_

_“Why?” Steve asks, interrupting his thoughts, his voice wounded and breaking, “Why didn’t you do something?”_

_“We were right here, Buck,” Artemis says, voice cracking and desperate, confused. “They hurt us. They hurt me. Why would you let them hurt us? I thought you cared about us.” Tears run freely down her face, making tracks through the blood and grime. Blood is leaking from her nose into her mouth, making her choke around the words and tears._

_Steve’s voice suddenly goes low, a terrible smile overtaking his face, not his best friend, not Steve at all, “And they’re coming back. Where are we Bucky?” Horror settles in Bucky’s gut as he takes in his friend’s words. “You don’t know where we are.”_

_Artemis voice crackles manically as she too smiles terrifyingly, teeth sharp and wicked, “Better find us before it’s too late.”_

 

Bucky wakes up, a scream halfway out of his mouth, his body drenched in sweat. The room is empty and terror surges though Bucky because _he can’t be alone again, he can’t_. Steve and Artemis? Where are they? The late October sun is streaming lazily through the window, cool and watery. That the sun could shine right now, no matter how meek, seems a cruel joke. He scrambles out of bed, preparing to find them and make sure they were safe if it’s the _last damn thing he does._

The door opens.

Steve. Panicked looking but alive and unharmed. Bucky, halfway out of bed, lurches across the room to check him over himself.

“Buck-Bucky? What the hell? Buck! Hey, look at me! What’s goin’ on?” Steve must’ve heard him scream but Bucky doesn’t have time to think about that.  

Satisfied that Steve is unscathed Bucky stands up straight and asks, “Artie?”

“What about her?”

Bucky lets out a frustrated noise and brushes past Steve out of the room, making a beeline for the elevator, ready to go get her himself. It was just a nightmare of course. Or it had started as a memory and turned into something much worse. Something worse because it has the possibility of coming true. Steve is following him down the hallway shouting something at him. He stops when he feels Steve’s hand on his elbow. “Bucky talk to me for a second! What’s going on?”

Bucky turns and grabs at his friend, fists his hand in the front of Steve’s shirt and yanks him closer with surprising strength, “She’s in danger Steve. I have to make sure she’s okay. I have to-,”

“Hey, hey, hey, she’s fine. I just saw her. She’s fine. She wants me to tell you she says she’s sorry for not coming back last night. She crashed as soon as she got home. She meant to change and come back if that’s what this-,”

“No! Steve they’re coming-they, she has to be okay. I need to see her.” Bucky says, anxiety skyrocketing as his thoughts dwell on her wellbeing and her safety. He lets go of Steve’s shirt to start toward the elevator again. Steve freezes for a second at the mention of _them_.

Steve quickly regains his composure and reaches out to stop Bucky. He catches at his friend’s sleeve. “Okay, yeah, here look,” Steve reaches in his pocket and pulls out his phone, Bucky flinching away as he does so. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s just my phone,” he tries soothing his friend, voice soft and low. “You can call her and see that she’s okay and ask her to come over. It’ll take her two seconds.” Steve says as gently as he can as he finds her contact, taps it, and holds the phone out to Bucky who hesitantly takes it, not sure about this plan of action. It feels to him like they’re wasting fucking time.

The phone rings once, twice, three times, _why wasn’t she-_

“Stevie, what can I do for ya?” Artemis’s cheerful voice echoes through the speaker. For a second he can’t say anything as the tension in his body breaks and he plummets from the adrenaline high. “Steve? Hello?” She sounds worried now.

“Artemis,” he manages to grind out, “Are you okay?” His voice is rough and harsh even to his own ears.

The sound of shuffling around and clanking dishes and warm chatter sounds as she pauses. Then her voice comes back further from worry now and closer to anxiety, real fear, “Bucky? What’s wrong, babydoll? Are you-,”

“Could you please come over here?” His voice breaks around the last word. He swallows thickly, embarrassed suddenly by this whole thing but also still wound too tightly not to ask her to come over right away.

“Yeah, of course. Two seconds okay? I’m leaving now.” The line goes dead and Bucky tries not to panic at the abrupt silence that reverberates through the line.

Bucky refuses to go to his room and wait, even when Peggy threatens to get the doctors. They can fucking _try_ to move him. Steve somehow convinces all authority figures involved in the situation, which Bucky hadn’t noticed before, that he has the situation handled. So, Bucky stands there and refuses to speak, his fingers wrapped loosely around Steve’s wrist to remind himself that Steve is here and safe without having to look at him but, also so that he can watch the elevator uninterrupted.

Two minutes later, when Bucky is just about to try bolting for it again, the elevator doors open and Artemis exits them, worry creasing her brow. She looks unharmed but Bucky still moves forward, letting go of Steve, to catch her hand and look her over. Fine. Safe. Untouched. He lets out a slow breath, finally satisfied that things are okay, and suddenly immensely tired. Bucky still takes his time in making _absolutely_ _sure_ , however, that she’s completely fine.   

She lets him look her over for as long as he likes and only moves again when he seems to have calmed considerably. “What’s goin’ on, huh?” She asks, soft and sweet and gentle. She still has her apron tied around her waist, draped over jean clad legs, her gray-blue t-shirt is covered in flour, making Bucky frown. She doesn’t have a coat and he knows she gets cold easily, her bare arms covered in goosebumps.

He takes her hand and tugs her down the hall toward his room but not before making Steve walk close to his other side where he can monitor both Steve and the hall ahead of them. Leaving their rear exposed makes Buck anxious but it can’t be helped at the moment. He glances back as frequently as he feels is safe to do so.

Once safely in his room he lets go of Artemis who looks at Steve bewilderedly, who looks just as confused as she feels, as Bucky begins searching through the cabinet in the corner of the room. Steve glances away from Artemis, suddenly regretting his refusal of the hospital staff’s help, though he’s sure Sam or one of the other therapists will be here soon. “Buck?” Steve asks carefully, afraid that if Bucky doesn’t calm down soon the staff will want to sedate him.

Bucky finds what he’s looking for and moves back to Artemis’s side, handing her a jacket, dark green and soft. “I know you get cold,” he says and her eyes soften as she takes it from him.

“Thank you.” She puts it on and takes Steve’s arm, forcing him down into one of the chairs as she takes the other. “Sit down, Buck. You gonna tell us what’s goin’ on?” She glances at Steve and let’s go of his arm to take Bucky’s hand between both of hers as he sits down on the bed across from them, his eyes suddenly hard. He takes one of her hands almost possessively and pulls on it until she moves her chair closer to him and away from Steve.

They sit in silence for a while before Bucky unexpectedly starts telling them exactly what happened, completely unprompted. He figures why the hell not, while Wilson isn’t there to muck everything up and break his resolve to tell them for once what’s going on in his head. And maybe it’ll stop them looking at him like he’s completely out of his mind. He knows he’s scaring them but he also knows they’ll listen. Bucky’s not used to spewing so much information at once and so it takes a while and many breaks but he finally gets through it all, starting with how he was feeling yesterday barring only his jealousy of their outing, their _date_. Halfway through Steve moved from his chair to sit next to Bucky on the bed and Artemis kept her hand twinned with his, fingers clenching his every so often when his voice started to strain or got a little shakier than usual.

He’s glad, so, so glad to have them. After he finishes the story they sit in silence but it isn’t a bad one. It’s comfortable and comforting, safe and warm, _better_ than being alone with the pain. That lighter, less hollow feeling finds its way into Bucky’s bones, calming him further, same as when he told Artemis about the cold and darkness.

“Thanks,” he says after a few more minutes of the stillness and quiet, his voice choked and raw. “Thanks for being here.”

“Wouldn’t be anywhere else, Bucky,” Steve says immediately and sincerely. Artemis pats his hand and nods, unable to speak for the time being, guilt heavy in her stomach. “We’re here, Buck.” He reassuringly pats his friend gently on the back.     

Bucky nods and lets out a breath. He feels rather stupid about the whole thing now, pathetic and useless. “Hey don’t do that,” Artemis’s weak voice cuts through his thoughts. He meets her eyes, sees her fragile smile, “Don’t you dare beat yourself up about this.” She presses her fingers over the back of his hand, “You’ve done so well,” she glances at Steve who nods in agreement.

Bucky doesn’t see how he’s done well but concedes anyways with a tilt of his head. It’s just then that the Wilson shows up. He comes in the room slowly, smiling that easy smile of his. Artemis asks Bucky if he’ll tell the story again. And since he’s done it once already and he has his two most trusted people in the room with him to support him, he does, carefully and one thing at a time. 


	13. Family vs. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I would love to hear your thoughts!

“That’s really great progress, Artemis. I mean really. Maybe that’s something that’ll work for the guy. Talk it out with you and Rogers first and _then_ with Sam.” Tommy says as we work together, wiping down tables, preparing to move to the back to do some baking. I had just told him about Bucky’s panic attack from last week and the revelation that had come along with it. I didn’t tell him the details of the dream just that it had been horrible. Since that day Bucky had begun speaking more and more to Steve and me about certain things he remembered, then when he had his sessions with Sam he could repeat what he’s already said and Sam could help sort through it.  

“I know,” I say, “But what he went through…” I shake my head and turn to Tommy who’s standing with his arms crossed over his chest behind me, having finished his last table.

“Didn’t I tell ya to be careful?” He asks sternly, “I mean I know you’re practically in love with Barnes but-,”

“I am not!” I protest, then deflate a little, “But hearing what he went through…it-it wasn’t, hasn’t been easy on-,”

Just then Connor bursts out of the kitchen, hoofing it toward us before skidding to a stop and holding out the landline phone to me. I stare at him and then the phone in his hand, “What?”

He rolls his eyes and shoves it at me, “It’s for you, dumbass.”

“We’re closed. I don’t take calls when we’re closed,” I say, narrowing my eyes, still not taking the phone.

He bounces on the balls of his feet, “I picked it up because the caller ID had _your_ last name, _Shelby_. It’s your sister you idiot.”

I grab the phone and press the receiver into my chest and glare down at Connor who suddenly looks smug and very punch-able. “ _What_?” I hiss, “Why the fuck would you pick it up then?”

He shrugs and walks away, looking self-satisfied. I hold the phone to my chest, tip my head back and close my eyes, taking a deep breath. Why? Why now when I had so much else going on did she have to disrupt my life? When I’m finally starting to feel settled? “We’re firing Connor,” I say looking over at Tommy when I finish counting backward from ten.

“Too much paper work. Quicker you talk to her quicker it’ll be over,” he advises, looking apologetic.

“Murder then.”

“Then I’d have to help and you know neither of us are cut out for prison,” He puts a hand on my shoulder, “I’ll start the scones on my own. You take as long as you need.” Tommy’s hand slides away from my shoulder before he limps away, his leg hurting him more than usual as of late.

I take the phone away from my chest and take another deep breath before pressing the phone to my ear, “Hello?”

“Well what the fuck took so long? And who was that boy? I didn’t know you had toys lying around or I’d call more often. Bit of a mouth on that one if you ask me but-,”

I bite back a sarcastic comment and ask, “What do you want Thena?” I use her childhood nickname, knowing it’ll piss her off. 

“Don’t call me that, _Artie_.” She hisses down the line, not knowing or not caring that I don’t mind my nickname. “Now I don’t have time for this I’m supposed to be on conference call in 10 minutes with Beijing-,”

“ _You_ called _me_!”

“Stop _interrupting_ me!” She clears her throat daintily after her outburst and continues, “Now, as I was saying, I’m supposed to be on conference call with Beijing in 10 minutes so I haven’t got time to dally with _you_ on the phone,” She says self-importantly. “Mother insisted I call however.” I can hear Athena begin typing on a computer, manicured nails clipping away, as though this conversation is already beneath her.

I roll my eyes, grit my teeth, “Mom couldn’t call herself?”

“She says you haven’t called _her_ since you and _Thomas_ left for New York and she’s afraid you hate her. Do you Artemis? Do you hate our mother? Why can’t you-,” I hold the phone away from my ear so that her voice is reduced to an unintelligible chatter. When the noise stops I put the phone back and unlock the café door to sit outside, needing the cool air.

“What do you want?” I sit at one of the tables and prop my feet up on the other chair. I keep my voice as emotionless as possible, taking a breath of cold, autumn air to ground myself.  

“Mother wants us to have Thanksgiving together and since I actually have it off this year _and_ the boys will be on a weeklong leave-,” She starts nonchalantly.

I bolt upright in my chair, my boots hitting the ground with a dull thud, “ _What_? The twins are coming home?” My heart aches, _my twins_ …

“What did I say about interrupting me?” She says harshly, the clicking stopping momentarily before it picks up again. “And yes they are. Only for a week. They’re very important from what Mother tells me.” My brothers the Army Rangers were coming home for Thanksgiving. I could feel the impending disaster looming already, but I love the twins nonetheless. Athena, the twins, Mom, and I hadn’t all been in the same room together since I went to basic.  

“Fuckin’ hell Athena I can’t come home I got responsibilities here. Plus it ain’t even Halloween yet why do we have to talk about this now?”

She ignores that fact that the first thing she did was cuss at me and says, “Could you refrain from the use of that filthy language? It’s no wonder you haven’t found a husband yet-,” I hold the phone away from my face again, starting to get pissed off. I put the phone back after a few seconds, preparing to interrupt her again, “-and honestly that’s why I’m calling so early. I called your cell yesterday but I’m _blocked_. We’ll have to have a chat about _that_ , Artemis. I’m glad to know, however, that New York hasn’t knocked that surliness out of you or that accent, Lord have mercy. Though it does sound a tad Brooklynite now. Besides what could _you_ have to do that you couldn’t come home?” She finally stops talking, taking a second to breathe. The nails stop clipping again and I hear the faintest sound of delicate swallowing as she sips at a drink.

Bucky for one thing, I think. And the fact that Tommy’s family would be here. But I won’t say that to her. “We’re servin’ dinner to vets that don’t have any family-,”

She makes a disgusted noise, “Ugh! My god! Are you still running a café?”

“What the hell else would I be doing, Athena?” My temper is starting to get the better of me, no one able to rile me up faster than my sister.

“I thought you would’ve went out of business months ago,” She says conversationally, casually.

“Nope,” I say tightly, grinding my teeth and fighting the urge to just hang the fuck up. “So, see, responsibilities.”

There’s a long pause and then a deep, dramatic sigh, “Well, I _guess_ we’ll just come to you. It’ll be a hassle but-,”

“No.” I cut her off, not even wanting to entertain the idea. There’s a reason I haven’t been home, a reason I haven’t invited them here.

“What do you mean ‘no’? It’s already a done deal! I’ll email you travel information and arrival times. Oh, and one last thing, I’m doing a vegan cleanse so you’ll have to account for that in meal preparation. Toodles.” And with that she hangs up.

 

~

 

“So, let me get this straight,” Wilson begins, “Tommy’s family, your devil family, a whole slew of vets, and now you’re inviting us?”

“Right. And Bucky. And Sharon and Peggy.” I say, scooting cups of coffee toward Steve and Sam who sit on stools at the counter. I turn to the display case to get them two scones each.

Sam sips at his coffee and glances at Steve, one eyebrow raised, before he says, “I think you’re crazy.” I groan and brace my elbows on the counter, head in my hands, after setting the plates before them.

“I know! But honestly, the more people that are here the less chance I’ll be cornered by them. Plus I have to account for a _vegan fucking cleanse_.”

Steve chokes on his coffee a little, “A what?”

“Exactly. What. The fuck.” I sigh and lift my head as Tommy joins us having just finished up a round of refills. “They’re gonna terrorize everyone here and apparently there isn’t any way to stop it. Thank Christ that we don’t have room for them here so they’ll be at a hotel at least part of the time.” Tommy puts a hand on my back and rubs it gently.

“They are about the worst fuckin’ people I’ve ever met. And I’m allowed to say that as I grew up with the bastards,” Tommy says, stress tightening the lines near his eyes.

Sam and Steve seem shocked but I just roll my eyes, trying not to let them see the strain behind my smile, “He’s exaggerating, except for maybe about Athena.” He isn’t exaggerating about any of it but I didn’t want to run them off when there’s a chance they’ll come. I swallow and glance at the patrons still in the café, a couple of college students and an older couple. “I understand if you guys don’t wanna come. Hell, _I_ don’t wanna go but I thought I’d make the offer anyways.”

“I’ll be there,” Sam says, grinning, “I think it’ll be fun.”

Steve hits his shoulder but nods, “Yeah and I’ll see about the girls and Bucky.”

“Don’t make Bucky feel like he’s gotta, Steve. I don’t want him to be uncomfortable.” I don’t want him to relapse is what I don’t say.

Steve nods in understanding, “I’ll make sure he knows.”

Sam just smiles again however and says, “It’s the holidays, everyone’s uncomfortable. One question though: Athena, Artemis? What the hell?”

I groan and Tommy smiles, “Its tradition on my dad’s side for the kids to have themed names. My dad and all his brothers were ‘J’ names. Not only are we named after Greek gods and goddesses but we’re also all ‘A’ names. ‘A’ as in a bunch of assholes, I think.”

Sam bursts out laughing and doesn’t stop for several minutes.  

 

~

 

“You look good, babydoll!” I coo at Bucky who stands before me in some sweats and a hoodie. I like to call him babydoll just to see the flustered but also happy expression that flits over his face at the term.

I’m not disappointed now as he jumps and smiles. He looks down at himself, “Same stuff I wear every day,” he says.

I roll my eyes and reach forward to adjust the hoodie’s drawstrings then curl my fingers in his collar and give it an affectionate tug. “You’re starting to fill out, darling, it isn’t the clothes I’m talkin’ about.” Steve and Bucky had managed to work out the food situation though I’m not sure where it’s coming from, it isn’t from the hospital anymore and so Bucky eats three meals a day and I’d say keeps roughly 85% of them down. There are still days when he can’t keep anything down but it’s still a huge leap of improvement and starting to show on Bucky’s body. He’s starting to gain weight but still incredibly lean.

He blushes and looks anywhere but my eyes, “Thanks doll.”

I let my hands drop from his collar, “Wanna take a stroll? I’m not feeling much for sittin’ down right now.”

Bucky nods and hold his arm out to me, “Whatever ya want sweetheart.”

I loop my arm through his offered one, “Lead the way, Sarge.” We wander through the halls for a bit in comfortable silence. Anytime we pass anyone in the hall Bucky pulls me protectively closer and observes the person with suspicion until they’re well past us.

I pat his arm with my other hand, “It’s alright, Buck. He isn’t gonna do anything.” I say as he glances over his shoulder at the male doctor we just passed for the third time. I press my fingers into his arm reassuringly, hard, lithe muscle pushing back. “You really are doing so well. I’m very proud.”

He glances over and rolls his eyes but smiles all the same. “Proud parent, huh?”

“Maybe only a little,” I pinch his side, “Besides you love the attention and the praise.”

He shrugs and stays quiet for a second as we pass an open door. Bucky pulls me into his side as we pass, watching for any threat. It’s been about a week since his horrifying dream and Bucky is still more paranoid than usual. “Maybe I do, or maybe I just like havin’ a pretty girl tell me she’s proud of me _and_ that I look good.” He smiles cheekily at me. I’m glad for his good mood distracting me from Athena’s call which I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since it happened yesterday. Sam and Steve had helped slightly with their reassurances at the café earlier but I’m still worried. I consider telling Bucky about Thanksgiving right now but decide not to, enjoying the light atmosphere too much.

It’s easy to forget about it with Bucky here, and push it- _them_ to the back of my mind. I joke, “Just _pretty_ huh? I tell you how good you look and all I get is pretty? I think I’m more-,”

“Beautiful,” he says sincerely, eyes never leaving my face, “Stunning, lovely, angelic.”

I blush and look away from his eyes, his words ringing with genuineness, truthfulness. “I think you might be confusing me with someone else, Barnes. I’m a little too rough around the edges for those words. Maybe somethin’ like gruff or smart-mouthed or irritating might-”

I grin goofily at him secretly very pleased that he thought so or at least pretended to think so as he interrupts me, tone affronted, “Quit talkin’ about my girl that way. She’s perfect.” Color appears high in his cheekbones almost as soon as the words leave his mouth, “Sorry I didn’t mean to-,”

But I’m already laughing and he looks relieved but not before something else flashes across his face, too quick for me to identify. “You’re such a charmer, you know that Barnes?”

He starts down another hallway but I pull him in a different direction and he follows easily, eyeing me curiously but not mentioning it. “I used to be more of a charmer.”

“Oh yeah?” I try to keep the mood light and teasing.

“Yeah,” he says, smiling as I lead us around a corner. “Woulda had you in love with me the moment you met me.” He mirrors my joking tone, nudging me gently.

“Mmmm. And how did ya charm ‘em?” I ask, only half-joking now and fully curious.

He frowns, “Well…I can’t actually remember.” My stomach twists as I wonder if I’ve said the wrong thing again, something inadvertently hurtful. I wait for the unfocused daze to overcome him but then he says, tone bright, “I can make somethin’ up though. I’ll be charming for you right now and you tell me if it woulda worked.”

I laugh at his suddenly jovial manner and I think he’s slipped into the charming, young man roll already more than he knows, “Alright Buck. Go for it.”

“Alright so if things were right in the world we’d meet in a sweet way. Maybe I’d pay for your ice cream when you’re ahead of me in line even though I haven’t got but a couple bucks. And you’re _so_ flattered but then you’d go all red, realizin’ that I didn’t have any money left for myself.” He stops to clear his throat as I pull him down into a chair near a wall of windows, but out of their view. He gives me another curious look but again doesn’t mention it.

“You think about this a lot?” I ask him, his smile wider than I’d ever seen it.

“Quiet, I ain’t done yet,” he takes his arm out of mine and pokes me in the cheek, “So, you’d feel bad for me and to make up for it you’d let me sit and talk to ya while you ate. Maybe we’d share a bit, maybe not. But I’d just sweet talk ya so much you’d be rotten by the end of it.”

He grins as I shake my head and smile, “By then you’d be so taken you wouldn’t know what to do cause you’ve never met someone so gentlemanly before. So, I’d ask ya to dinner and you’d say yes. I’d pay and hold doors open and pull out chairs and all that. Maybe we could go to the beach or Coney Island after dinner, it all just depends. I’d win ya somethin’ though if we went to Coney Island as a keepsake. Hold your hand on the beach if we decided to go on a walk there. Then I’d walk you home, make sure you were safe, and kiss ya just before I left if I thought you wanted me to.” He says this last bit half self-consciously, eyeing me sidelong.

I chuckle at his expression. “Well you’d be a regular knight in shining armor wouldn’t ya?”

“Yeah,” he says, eyes soft now as he looks into mine, “’Cause you deserve to have someone treat you right.”

My body has gone still, eyes wide as I stare into his and wonder when this stopped being hypothetical and started being about me. Or am I reading into it too much because I want that to be it? I clear my throat and smile at him, but I know it probably looks forced. “Well Barnes whatever person you get is gonna be so lucky to have you.”

He frowns at me suddenly and looks away, a heavy tension unexpectedly between us. I look out the window then and gasp, making Bucky jump in his seat and grab for me, immediately on guard. I take his hand, giving him an apologetic look for startling him and say, “It’s nothin’ babydoll but _look_.” I lift my other hand to point out the window and Bucky smiles.

The sun is just beginning to rise, the sky a beautiful gradient of deep purples and blues, moving to lighter blues and a tinge of green, that turns into reds and oranges and finally that bright, lovely yellow. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” I ask turning back to him.

His eyes are already on me as he squeezes my hand, “Yeah.”

My heart melts as I look at him, “I meant what I said you know. Whoever you decide to make yours really will be a lucky person.”

He smiles tightly at me and tugs his hand out of mine to wrap his arm around my shoulders. I’m shocked for a second by the action but settle against him easily enough. “I think I’ll probably be the lucky one. Findin’ somebody that can put up with me is gonna be a challenge.”

I lean my head against his shoulder and reach up with my hand to tangle my fingers with his where his rests on my shoulder. “You’re right that will be hard. You’re the worst.”

“Shut up,” He says but I can hear the smile in his voice. “What sorta date would you like to go on? Ideally, that is.”

“Hmmm,” I hum, pretending to think about it. “Y’know I’m not one much for dates.”

He leans his head against mine, “Whaddaya mean?” He’s so warm and such a reassuring presence that I wish that the stupid armrests of the chairs weren’t digging into my side and separating us. Guilt coils in my stomach as I know I should pull away; know I should have never let him get this close. But, I’m too selfish to move, warm and content, happy and safe. _Home_ , I realize. This is what home should feel like. Tears sting my eyes a little and I squirm closer despite myself, Bucky immediately moving to accommodate me.

I shrug and force down my emotions, focusing on his question instead, “I never went on a whole lot of ‘em. But I guess I’d like to do something where we could talk a lot.”

“Talk.” Bucky says, sounding as though he’s putting something very important down to memory. “What else?”

“Talk ‘cause I need to know what kinda person they are. That’s my specialty you know. I can tell a lot about a person with just a little bit of talk,” I explain myself a little, thinking ‘talk’ sounded awful vague.

“What else?” he asks again, gently. I feel his mouth press very softly to my hair as he turns his head. I’m unsure if he’s done it on purpose or not but heat still floods my cheeks either way.

“Why do you need to know? Got somebody to set me up with?” I joke. Bucky goes stiff against me, pulling me tighter to his side and doesn’t answer. I decide to ignore his reaction and continue on, not wanting to think about it too much, “Well I guess when we got done with the talkin’ bit I’d like to go on a walk around town. I don’t get to explore New York much. Maybe find a nice little bookshop or somethin’, a thrift shop or a restaurant.”

Bucky has relaxed against me again, “Talk. Walk. Books. Explore.”

“Boring, I know. Probably why I never have been good at getting dates.” There’s that curious brushing sensation against my hairline again, as though he’s pressing kisses to the top of my head.

He shakes his head, “Not boring, peaceful. You need someone that needs peace as much as you do.”

“You’re right,” I admit, having had enough action for a life time.  

“I am?” His tone makes me wonder if he has someone specific in mind.

I take my head away from his shoulder and look up at him, eyes blue and piercing and intense, and press a kiss to his cheek, “Yeah.”

He’s very still for a few seconds before he shifts again, bringing me that much closer to him, “So, would I have charmed ya?”

“With that pity strategy? Nah, I woulda seen right through you, Barnes,” I say, settling my head against his shoulder again. He doesn’t say anything or laugh and so I guess it must have been a poor joke. “I’m kidding, Buck. I might’ve seen through you a little but you still would have been too likable for your own good.”

“Think so?” He asks, sounding genuinely curious, like he _needs_ to know.

“Mmm.” I want to cut the conversation off there as I realize we’ve been straying into dangerous territory. My heart twists as I make myself pull away from his embrace, guilt pooling in my gut. I cough and stand as I turn away pretending not to see the hurt, confused expression on his face. “We better be gettin’ back. Sharon’ll be looking for you.”

“Artie-,”

“C’mon, Buck!” I spin around and dart a few paces back, smile on my face, as he reaches for me. “I’ll race ya!” He looks floored by my sudden change in mood for a second then smiles, deciding to roll with the close to the conversation I’ve provided.

“You’re on, slowpoke.” With that he’s up and bolting for it as we both laugh.   

 


	14. Memories Matter, Secrets Too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always I would love to hear your thoughts! I do read and reply to comments. :* Thanks for reading!

It isn’t Artemis who walks through Bucky’s door tonight but Tommy, who Bucky remembers from the café and knows from Artie’s countless stories about him. He stands in the doorway with his hands up around his shoulders, Artemis’s bag hanging from one hand.

“Don’t wanna startle ya, man,” he says to Bucky who only nods from his place at the table. Tommy lowers his hands and comes further into the room, stopping when he notices Bucky tense up. “I ain’t here to make ya talk or anything like that. And Artie’s fine she’s just having a bad mental day and still managing to worry about everybody but herself. Her mother called and it didn’t do anyone any favors.”

Bucky’s gut immediately swoops in anxiety. Bad mental day? She’d never mentioned that she had them, though he knows he knew she must have them. In fact, Bucky realizes, she _never_ talks about what’s going on with her, how she's feeling. Guilt works its way into his stomach. She never mentions it and he never asks.

“Anyways,” Tommy says, interrupting his thoughts, coming a bit closer now that Bucky has relaxed a little more, depositing the bag on the table. “Wanted to talk to you about something anyways. Or talk at you rather. I just need ya to listen for a bit because I think you might care about Artemis as much as she does about you.” He pauses, as Bucky nods slightly.

Tommy moves and sits on Bucky’s bed, elbows on his knees as he presses his fingertips together. Bucky just looks at him, giving the man his full attention, because if this is about Artemis then it’s important and he’ll listen. Tommy points to the bag, “She said it was very important I bring that and also that I tell you she’s okay and not to worry, she’ll be here for lunch.”

It’s then that he finally gets down to business and asks, “She told you about Thanksgiving? Her family?” Bucky gives that very faint nod again, if only because he has to, if only for Artemis. He tries not to think of how she would wear such a proud expression right now if she could see him. He could almost hear her, _Look at you gettin’ along with my best friend!_ He also tries not to remember her distressed expression as she told him about Thanksgiving a few days ago, seemingly in pain at just the thought of having them there. Bucky could only guess that they probably just didn’t get along. He hadn’t asked, figuring it was best not to.

“Well, I don’t know what she told you or how she acted when she did but they’re awful. Loud and mean and full of emotions they don’t know how to deal with. She hates being around them and that’s exactly why we’re here right now, in New York.” He pauses and looks down at his feet, swallows harshly. “She said to Steve not to pressure you into coming but I’m not him and this is _my_ best friend’s well-being we’re talking about now. I see what she does for you every day and so I’ll ask you to do this one thing and be there for that fuckin’ dinner. I don’t care if we gotta hide you in the back as long as you’re _there_ with her. As long as she can see you.”

Bucky stares at Tommy as the other man runs his hands over his dark, coarse hair. He nods again when Tommy looks back up from the floor, to show he’s listening, that he agrees. He’ll fucking be there. If she needs him to be there, then he’ll be there. She’s always been there for him.

Tommy looks away as he continues, eyes far away, “Sometimes, especially before we came to New York, she would go to the desert in her head and she wouldn’t know how to come home. She’d just be there howling and crying, trapped under that debris in her mind with no one to pull it off her. I’d have done it if not for thinking about death every five minutes. But one thing that always brought me back was the way they would scream at her.”

Bucky’s heart is in his throat, his whole body still, anger and guilt mixing evenly in his blood. No, he thinks, surely not. No one could. Who could scream at someone as sweet as Artie? But why would Tommy make this up? He thinks about her distressed state when she mentioned the holiday to him, reading it in a different light. Not distressed, but fearful.

“I know she doesn’t say this stuff to you cause she’s afraid it might upset you. But she’s tells me how far you’ve come and I see how close you two are and so I think you should know.”

Tommy swallows thickly and looks away from Bucky again as he continues, “The mother went bat shit when Artie’s dad died, oversees ya know, been there, done that, seen it before. The same old shitty story. The widow who couldn’t handle the grief. And Athena that self-centered bitch, older than Artemis by a good number of years couldn’t be bothered to pick up the slack. Artemis was ten, Athena was _seventeen_.”

“Her brothers, the twins, relied on Artie completely. They were only six and couldn’t help it much. They didn’t really understand, what had happened to their dad or what had happened to their family. She made their lunches for school, patched ‘em up when they got hurt, tucked them into bed every night and struggled through reading a story to them.

“But when we came home and they let me outta the hospital in Pittsburgh we stayed at her parent’s place outside the city. My folks were in the process of movin’ house to a suburb. But the way they yelled at her, expected her to be the same, didn’t give her a chance to figure her own head out. They did it _before_ sure, she used to throw it back at them, but now anytime someone raised their voice it sent her back to that place, into a panic attack. And they thought she did it on purpose, to punish them.”  

Bucky’s hands are shaking now. His heart ready to beat out of his chest. She hadn’t mentioned any of this to him. He feels stung. Did she not trust him enough to tell him?

Bucky forces his mouth open but can’t make anything come out. Tommy nods sadly at him, “It’s okay man. I’ll get it all out there. You just gotta give me a minute.”

For some time it’s quiet as Tommy attempts to steel himself while Bucky let’s his blood boil and his guilt fester.

Eventually he continues, “So, they screamed and eventually she got used to it again. Then she started helpin’ me outta the hole in my head. And we made plans to leave. This was just the mother and Athena at this point, the twins had shipped off themselves by the time we got back. The twins were never mean to Artie but they never did anything to stop it either. I don’t think they knew how.

“Athena was workin’ from home, gettin’ ready to move to California to work with some company. Well she found out about New York and nearly lost her goddamn mind. She screamed and screamed that Artemis couldn’t do that to her, leave their mother like that. Called her every name in the book. Selfish. Dishonorable. Accused her of not caring about their family enough. Can you imagine?”

Tommy shakes his head, “It was verbal abuse plain and simple. But it’d been that way since her dad died. She took care of that family, did everything for them, and raised her brothers, took care of Athena’s dumbass. Never got a thank-you.”

“Now here’s the last bit I’m gonna tell you and then you can ask her whatever.” He coughs and still doesn’t look up from the floor, “Athena blames Artemis for everything. And she especially hates her for joining up. Mostly because it left her in charge. Athena hates her and so she will absolutely try to make this the worst experience in the world for Artie. She will try to ruin this place for Artemis so she can’t look around without being reminded of them.

“So, I think it’s important you guys come, but especially you. It’ll be harder for her to make a scene and Artie will have you guys there for support, for positivity. You make her happy, hopeful.”

With that Tommy abruptly gets up and goes, not even stopping to say good-bye. Bucky thinks he might have heard a sniffle.    

 

~ 

 

Bucky doesn’t sleep that night, plagued by images of a ten year old Artemis being verbally and emotionally abused and struggling to take care of her family, to raise two six-year-olds, take care of an absent mother, and an abusive sister. He also sees her fresh from war cowering, panicking with no one willing or able to help her, in fact being screamed at for it, having to work through it alone to save her friend. He imagines the desert, imagines the rubble, both real and in her head. And resigns himself to asking her.

When she arrives around lunch time she brings him a sandwich made with thick, fresh bread, layered with newly sliced pieces of meat and cheese, and some sort of tasty sauce. It makes him a little sick to eat as he imagines her making sandwiches for her brothers before school with tiny ten-year-old hands, no one else there to do it and no one to make _her_ lunch. She beams at him as she always does, chattering and shedding the coat she’s wearing while opening the blinds and folding blankets.

He stares at her, his heart aching in his chest at her good-ness, kindness, loveliness, everything he doesn’t deserve to experience. “Artemis,” he says, voice cracking around her name, emotions having stretched it thin. She stops talking immediately and hurries over to him, a frown on her face.

“What?” She sits next to him at the table, “What is it?” He notices that she’s careful not to touch him or come too close and his throat aches knowing now how she knows what to do in certain situations. Why she’s so good at being present and reachable but not overbearing and suffocating.  

He reaches out to her and she instantly reciprocates. Fingers threaded firmly together he bites the bullet and says, “Tommy told me about your family.”

The blood drains from her face and she roughly wrenches her hand out of his and stands, panic twisting her features, “I gotta be gettin’ back. It’s pretty busy today. I’ll see you-,”  

“Artemis.” He stands as well, “You’re always there for me, let me be there for you.”

He realizes belatedly that standing up probably wasn’t the wisest choice as she backs up a few steps. She’s already on high alert at the mention of what he now knows and towering over her wouldn’t help anything.

He raises his hand and sits back down with only a little difficulty. He’s not sure what to do as he wasn’t quite used to being the one talking people down. “I’m not-,”

“No. You’re not. Tommy shouldn’t have told you whatever he did. That’s my history, my _secrets_. I didn’t take yours from you.” Her hands are shaking, her bottom lip trembling. Bucky’s never seen her this distraught before but he continues anyways, feeling that it needs to be said.  

“Artemis, listen to me. You know some things-,”

“Things _you_ told me! Things _you_ gave away freely!” The betrayal and hurt in her voice makes his heart give a painful throb, his lungs constricting. This isn’t going the way he was hoping it would. Her voice cracks and trembles, “I _never_ make you say anything, _ever_!”   

“I know you don’t. I just- he told me and it’s not like I could just _not_ hear him. Now that I know-,”

She sucks in a sharp breath, “No. You don’t get to do that.” Her eyes are narrowed and blazing.

Bucky tries again anyways, knowing that nothing he’s saying is coming out the way he wants it to, “You need someone to be there for you. You’re always there for me-,”

“I don’t _need_ anyone! I never have! And I certainly don’t need _you_.” She spits viciously, the last word so violently it hurts her throat. But as soon as it’s out of her mouth she regrets it. Artemis brings her hands up to her lips covering her mouth as though she could stuff the words back in.

Bucky’s heart drops into his stomach. He already knew it but it's still hard to hear. “I know ya don’t doll. I just thought I’d offer.” He says quietly, not able to meet her eyes for the first time in weeks. He needs her desperately, selfishly and she doesn’t need him at all. It’s a terrible feeling, to need someone who doesn’t need you.

She’s been standing stock still in her place in the center of the room, her eyes gone wide, heart breaking at the sound and shape of Bucky’s words, at the sureness and resignation to the truth of her declaration. She moves her hands down to hover over her heart, which is hammering against her ribs painfully. “I didn’t mean that.” She whispers, eyes glassy and wide and fearful, “I’m sorry. Bucky I didn’t mean that. It isn’t true.” Artemis is terrified that Bucky won’t believe that she didn’t mean it, that she just ruined months of building trust, ruined their friendship.   

He looks up at her and she unexpectedly darts forward and wraps her arms around his neck. It’s stiff and awkward for a moment as each of them wait for the other to freak out and pull away but when it doesn’t happen Bucky’s the first to relax into the embrace. He wraps his arm around her, sure and strong, and tugs on her until she takes the hint and sits in his lap. She buries her face in his neck and he feels the warm, wetness of her tears there. He strokes his fingers down her back and over her shoulder blades, making gentle, comforting noises as he does so.

“You’re so good it breaks my heart, Bucky,” she sobs. He tightens his grip on her, stopping his ministrations momentarily, wondering what she means.

“Whaddaya mean, doll?” He asks gently.

“I just mean _good_. Just pure and noble and-,” her voice hitches again, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. Please don’t believe it. I just wanted you to stop-,”

“I won’t anymore, sweetheart.” He brings his hand up to cradle the back of her head, thread his fingers though her hair, smooth and silky to his rough hand. Bucky remembers what Tommy said about Artie not being given the chance to figure out her own head and realizes the gift he’s been given by Artemis and Steve and Sam and all the rest. They’ve been giving him the gift of time, of a chance at figuring things out. She hadn’t been given the time, had been forced to bottle it up so she could help her friend. “I shouldn’t have sprung it on you like that. I know what bad memories are like to suddenly dredge up.”

And Bucky could kick himself because he _does_ know. He knows not to just say things like that. He realizes he’s made the mistake with her that everyone else does: assuming that she’s invincible. Her family, it seems, is a subject that isn’t easily breached. He should have fucking known. Guilt settles hard in Bucky’s stomach, reaching up to squeeze the air out of his lungs.   

“I’ll tell you eventually,” her words are muffled and tender as she whispers them into the soft fabric of his shirt. He smooths his hand down her back and then up again then, to move over to press his fingers over her bicep, hard muscles relaxing under the cotton shirt she’s wearing as he massages it lightly. He’s marveling at touching her, gentle and comforting, and trying not to too much. Bucky closes his eyes, knowing he shouldn’t be enjoying it so much especially when she’s so clearly distressed. But he usually only ever has her hand, and she’s so warm and soft and solid that he can’t help it.

“I’m not hurtin’ ya am I?” She asks, voice startling Bucky out of his reverie.

He shakes his head, “Nah, you’re light as a feather.”

She laughs a bit, “Know you’re lyin’ now.” Bucky presses his arm back around her, content to hold her tight for a few minutes, his fingers rubbing the space just beneath her ribcage lightly.

“You aren’t hurtin’ me.” He says in response. She really isn’t, her body a warm, comfortable weight on his thighs. The only thing that aches just a bit, as her body sometimes leans on it too much, is his mangled left shoulder. But it’s manageable, bearable, something he’ll deal with if it means she’ll stay there.

“Tell me what Tommy said.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

 

~

 

Bucky tells her all that Tommy told him. Half way through they move to the bed and Artie calls Tommy to tell him she won’t be back. He says he already knows. Now as they lay together in silence Artemis feels guilty.

“He shouldn’t have told you that stuff,” she says regretfully, drifting her fingers over Bucky’s palm.

“Doll…”

“I don’t mean…I’m not upset that you know. It’s just…he coulda hurt you sayin’ those things. They aren’t easy for anybody to hear but especially-,”

“A broken thing like me,” he tries to keep the bitterness out of his voice and only half succeeds.

“You aren’t broken,” She says automatically, not looking up from her fingers on his palm as she trails them back and forth, her other hand underneath his, supporting it. “You’re just a little bruised. You need a good polish and somebody’ll pick you up.”

“What am I, an apple?” He asks jokingly but appreciating the sentiment all the same because he knows she truly believes it. And even if _he_ doesn’t believe it, it’s nice to hear.

She shrugs, “You be whatever you wanna be, kid.” He laughs as she continues, “An apple, a cherry, an avocado, a plum, a tomato, whatever kinda produce you wanna be.”

He pretends to think on it as she leans her head against his shoulder and let’s his hand fall away. They’re lying side by side on their backs, bodies pressed together from the tips of their toes to their hip bones jutting together all the way to Artemis’s head pressed against Bucky’s shoulder and Bucky thinks maybe he’ll never move again if only he could convince Artie not to.

“I think I’ll be a plum.”

She laughs, “Why’s that, babydoll?”

He jolts at the name but manages to control himself, Artemis seeming not to have noticed him jump. God he loves the way it sounds, the way it makes him feel, whole and loved and maybe only bruised not broken. “I think they’re supposed to be good for memory loss.”

She turns her head and stares up at him looking like she either wants to laugh or cry but can’t decide which. He really hopes it’s the former as he _meant_ to make her laugh. Suddenly her eyes crinkle up as she smiles and looks away, giggling.

When she settles back down she asks, “Can I tell you something, Buck?”

“As much or as little as you want,” he says, repeating her own words to her, something she’s always saying to him. He can do this, he can be present for her.

She sighs and doesn’t say anything but Bucky knows not to ask, that this is a silence of building courage. Eventually she says, “Tommy’s right about Athena. I…I know she’s gonna try and ruin this place for me. My café, my new friends, my veterans-,” It’s adorable, Bucky thinks, that she thinks of them as _her_ veterans. “-and I don’t want this place to be ruined. I think she wants to force me to come home to be with my mom but…this place finally feels like home. I’ve never felt like I’ve been at home before.” She says this last bit very quietly, almost nervously.

“We won’t let her, Artemis. We’ll all be there.” It’s quiet for a few minutes as Bucky contemplates asking her a question. But it’s a sensitive subject and he doesn’t know how.

“Just ask,” she says, turning her head and looking up at him. “You’re awful at hiding your thoughts sometimes, you know that Buchanan?”

Or she’s just very good at reading him. He clears his throat and shakes that thought away. “How long was Tommy in for?”

“Not the question I was expecting, Barnes.” She sighs, “A couple months. He made it sound like I was out of it all the time but I stayed at the hospital as much as I could and it wasn’t so bad. When we went to stay at my mother’s house it got a bit worse but nothin’ I couldn’t handle. I knew I had to handle it for his sake but…yeah, it was a few a day. But I knew I had to be strong or I’d lose my friend and so I did what I had to. When we finally left-,”

She pauses and swallows back tears, turning her head away from him, “We bought the café when we got here and it took a couple months to get everything in order. Well Tommy relapsed and I almost did lose him. They took good care of him here, still do, and then things finally started looking up.”

“He was in this place?”

“Yeah…it was a real struggle for a while to make myself come over here because of what happened.”

Bucky’s chest aches. He had no idea of her discomfort, the pain he inadvertently caused her. “I’m-,”

“Don’t you dare say ‘I’m sorry’. You couldn’t have known and I didn’t expect you to.” She swallows and turns her head back to him, pressing her forehead into his bicep as she turns on her side and curls up, her knees pressing into his thigh, her hands come up to wrap around his elbow. She closes her eyes and continues, “Two months after he was released, we both finally felt good enough to open the café and then I started to feel something like happiness and then Sam Wilson walked through my door.” She grins into his arm, “And lord how things have been _awful_ since then.”

“You’re terrible,” he says, nudging her lightly.

Artemis smiles at him tiredly as she opens her eyes to meet his. “I’m glad I have you. I’m really sorry about earlier.”

He reaches over, her hands falling away from his arm, and ghosts his fingers down her cheek marveling at the blush that spreads there as he does, wondering what _that_ could mean and trying not to think about it too hard at the same time. “It’s okay.”

“You don’t believe me do you? That I need you?”

Bucky hesitates and Artemis knows. She sits up and pulls away from him, his hand dropping back down to the sheets. She glares down at him, “You better start believing it.”

Artemis then punches him in his good shoulder so lightly you would think he’s made of glass before leaning down very, _very_ close to his face, hovering over him, “I need you a lot more than you know. You make my nights worth it sometimes. You’ve become a part of my happiness.”

He tries not to glance down at her lips as a warm feeling spreads through him at her sweet words. He wishes he had his wits about him to say something back, something sweet and charming, something that could let her know he feels the same way, but she’s so close and all he can think about it how soft her lips would feel against his. All he would have to do is tilt his head forward just a little…then she pulls away and if she had noticed the change in the air or his glance at her lips she doesn’t mention it. She gets out of bed then, that curious blush spreading across her face again as she pulls on her coat.        

She pats his knee before she goes and says, “See ya around, babydoll. I’ll see about getting Steve from the nurses’ station. I’m sure Peggy’s had enough of him by now anyways.”


	15. Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to hear your thoughts! I really do appreciate it and love to hear from y'all. :) Do you guys like how long these chapters are? Or would you prefer shorter chapters? I know they can be quite long and wordy.

“You could just ask her you know,” I say to Steve as I loop my arm through his. We’re currently waiting in line at a hot chocolate street vendor’s stall, bouncing up and down slightly to keep warm. I give a particularly violent shiver and Steve takes his scarf off and wraps it around my head until I can barely see.

I glare at him as he says, “I told you to wear more layers.”

“You’re avoiding the topic,” I say, my voice muffled by the thick fabric now covering my mouth. New York has been hit with the cold early this year making going outside hazardous at best.

“What was that?” he pretends to not hear me, playful grin in place, before ordering for us. I take the opportunity to stuff both my hands underneath his bicep, curling my fingers around the warm muscle there. Now he glares at me as we step to the side to wait for our drinks. “I told you to wear gloves too.” He says bringing out an extra pair from his coat pocket. “Don’t you listen to anything I say?”

“You had those the whole time!” I say taking them from him and thanking him while slipping them onto my hands. “And not really Rogers, you ramble.” I smirk as he pretends to be annoyed.

Steve and I had ventured out today to get some more of that Italian food when I wouldn’t stop bugging him about it, taking up our roll of happy couple again. The food was better the second time and the owner just as lovely. I made our cab back stop a few blocks from the café so we could get hot chocolate here which is better than any Tommy and I had ever attempted to make at the café.

During this outing I had done nothing but pester Steve about Peggy. “C’mon Stevie,” I whine now, “Just tell me why ya won’t ask her out. Bucky tells me you hang around the nurses’ station more than you do with him now.”

He glances at me and rolls his eyes. “I do not.”

“You do so. Follow her around like a lost dog most days, Rogers.” He jabs me in the side as I finish speaking and I yelp. “Ow, God, did you have to do that? I’m gonna bruise and then what’s my boyfriend gonna say?”

“Who Bucky?” He grabs our drinks and grins, handing me one as we start our trek to the café. I ignore the comment about Bucky but can’t stop the blush that spreads onto my face or the shit eating grin that slips onto Steve’s face, proud of himself.  He sips at the chocolate then and looks surprised, “This _is_ good.”

I take the chance to get back at him for the Bucky comment. “Maybe you could get one with Peggy. I’m sure she likes-,”

“I haven’t asked her out because she’ll say no.” He says suddenly serious and grave, not meeting my eyes.

I stare at him, baffled, as we walk arm in arm down the street, “Jesus, you _are_ blind.”

“What?” He glances at me sidelong looking strangely small.

“You gotta be kidding me. She’s crazy about you. She’d be thrilled!” I tug on his arm and pull him to a stop, “Look you ask her out. And if she says no I’ll take you on a date and you can make up whatever embarrassing backstory about me that you want to tell the staff.” I soften then and smile gently at him, “Really though she’ll say yes.”

He nods and sighs and then throws back his head and groans, “Yeah, alright. Okay.”

I beam, “Good! Now come on before I freeze to death.”

 

~

 

When we make it back to the café our noses and cheeks are red, eyes watering from the harsh wind, but laughing and smiling all the same. Tommy and I had started closing the café on Sundays recently, needing a day where we didn’t have to worry about anything. So, I’m surprised but not overly so when I unlock the door and find Tommy, Sam, and Bucky sitting at a table, coffee and cookies on the table in front of them.

In preparation for Thanksgiving Bucky has started to visit the café occasionally to accustom himself with the feel and layout of the place. It’s a lovely gesture, one that makes my chest ache and my cheeks warm, that he cares enough to do so. It’s also incredible progress for him to be able to leave the safety of the hospital at all. He’s much more relaxed about it than the first time he had been over, back when we first met. I beam at the three of them as Steve shuts the door behind us and begins shedding various articles of clothing. “Guys! To what do I owe the pleasure?” I ask, struggling to pull the scarf away from my face so I can breathe now that the severe cold is gone from around me.

Sam and Tommy smile at me but Bucky only frowns, his eyes fixed somewhere around my shoulders and neck. I follow his eyes to the scarf wondering briefly why he’s frowning so intensely at it. I continue struggling with it for a moment before giving up on it, Steve having wrapped it too tightly, and take my coat and gloves off instead. I wrap my arms around Sam’s shoulders from behind and give him a squeeze, pressing our cheeks together, “Hello, darling Sam, how are you?”

He laughs and turns to me as I release him and move on to Tommy, “What’s got you in a mood today? I’m good thanks for asking.”

I stand up straight from hugging Tommy the same way I did Sam and lean on the back of his chair, “ _I_ got hot chocolate _and_ Italian food _and_ I didn’t have to pay for any of it ‘cause Steve is a gentleman.”   

Steve pulls up a chair to the table, his cheeks red at the small praise. Tommy turns to me, outraged, “You got that hot chocolate without _me_? With _Rogers_? I’m hurt, Artie, I thought we were best friends.”

I pass him my cup, “Don’t worry lovely, I saved you some.”

He nods and sips, “I might forgive you some day,” he says, theatrically.

“As long as there’s a chance,” I say just as dramatically, and put my hand over my heart. I pick up the coffee pot sitting on the table and weigh it in my hands. “I’ll get more. You want a cup, Stevie?”

He shakes his head, “I’m good.”

I turn to make my way to the kitchen when I notice Bucky. He’s white as a sheet, sitting stock still, a murderous expression on his face, his hand fisted so tight it looks as though he could crush steel. I frown, wondering at the look on his face. I lean down and press my lips to his cheek briefly, “Hello, Bucky dear, I’m glad you’re here.”

His face softens almost immediately and then tenses again just as fast. I give him a small smile, hoping to ease him, making a metal note, as I walk to the kitchen, to ask him about it later.

When I come back from the kitchen with a fresh pot Sam and Steve are arguing about something happily while Tommy leans back in his chair inserting inflammatory comments every once in a while to spur the argument on, lazy, content smile on his face.

I pull up a chair and sit next to Bucky, listening to the conversation and fixing my coffee at the same time. When I finish I automatically reach for Bucky’s hand, as it had become second nature for us to be touching, but as I near his hand with mine he suddenly snatches it away, placing it firmly on the table and away from me.

I try not to feel wounded as I pull my hand back, chalking it up to his just not wanting physical contact at the moment. But then he goes a step further and actually shifts his chair away from me.  

My heart sinks, chest aching as I attempt to join the conversation, my good mood suddenly gone. Steve’s frowning at us from across the table having noticed the tension. Sam and Tommy aren’t paying attention as they argue the merits of two different obscure bands. I glance at Bucky and I’m surprised to find his eyes already on me. His eyes are hard and distant, cold. I swallow thickly and look away as I wonder what it is I’ve done now.

“Artemis?”

“Sorry, what?” I ask distractedly.

“Halloween? Dressin’ up? Sexy cat? Sexy nurse? Sexy S.W.A.T. team member?” Sam asks, waggling his eyebrows at me, “What’s it gonna be, girl?”

“Don’t sexualize my best friend, Wilson,” Tommy says, only half-joking.

Sam rolls his eyes at Tommy as I say, “I’ll be myself for Halloween. Sexy Barista.”

Both Sam and Bucky choke on their coffee, coughing and spluttering. I burst out laughing at their reaction as does Steve.

Tommy only grins and leans back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest as another argument breaks out, this time about what a Sexy Barista costume would entail.

 

~

 

It’s only later that I realize Sam had also recognized the tension and sought to diffuse it. He had succeeded of course, successfully distracting me from Bucky’s hostile attitude. But now it’s time for me to go visit and I’m terrified to. I’m already an hour behind when I’d usually go over, finding one meaningless chore after another to complete to delay the meeting further. I consider not going at all, using exhaustion as an excuse, but I’m afraid it would only make things worse.

So, I swallow my fear and head over, taking my time walking across the street and through the hallways. The hospital seems smaller tonight and faster to get through. When I get to his room the bathroom door is shut and I can hear the sound of water running. I settle at the table, extracting a Tupperware container of brownies from my bag and set it out, along with the thermos and mugs.

Eventually the door opens and Bucky appears, clad in sweatpants, and a hoodie I had bought him a week ago. As soon as I had seen it I knew I had to get it for him. It’s thick and warm and a deep burgundy red, and currently Bucky’s hair is dripping onto it. I let out a frustrated noise as another drop splashes onto it. He looks surprised to see me and then apologetic as he reaches up to scrub at the back of him neck sheepishly. “Artie, I’m sorry about-,”

“ _What_ -,” I start, exasperatedly, “have I told you about dripping hair, Barnes?”

He looks shocked for a second before an embarrassed expression slides onto his face, “I know. Maybe I like to have you dry it for me, doll.” He says it shyly, nervously as though scared to be admitting it.

“I’m not your maid, Barnes,” I say, my voice sounding more severe than I mean it to, still confused and hurt by his behavior at the café. I watch his throat bob as he swallows hoarsely, eyes daring away from me, and I immediately feel guilty. “Sorry, of course I’ll do it.”

His eyes meet mine and they’re more than a bit flustered. “No! No, I mean, I-I don’t want you to feel like you gotta if you don’t-,”

“Barnes?” He stops, looks at me, “I want to.”   

He nods and walks back into the bathroom. He’s already sitting on the closed toilet seat, his back to me, legs crossed and feet tucked underneath himself when I make it there myself. I grab a hand towel and stand behind him as I start to squeeze out some of the water trapped there first. “Jeez, did ya even try to dry it?”

He lifts his shoulders and then lets them fall in a shrug, “Didn’t know if ya’d be here. It was my way of being hopeful. If you were here I could ask.”

I pause and frown, wishing I could see his face. “Why wouldn’t I be here, Barnes?” I ask as I hang the towel on the rack and pick up a comb, starting to carefully pull it through his knotted hair.

He winces, “Well for one thing you keep callin’ me Barnes.” His hand comes up and catches my wrist lightly, but he doesn’t turn, “’m sorry about earlier.”

He lets go of my hand and I continue running the comb through his hair slowly, not answering him immediately. “I just don’t know what I did to upset you,” I say carefully.

Minutes pass and I finish brushing his hair and he still doesn’t answer. I lay my hand on his shoulder and then smooth my fingers along his jaw until he turns to look at me and I can take his chin in my hand. “You gotta talk to me about things like this so I know how to avoid it.”

His eyes are deep blue today rather than stormy gray and he doesn’t look away from my gaze. Eventually, he turns back around, taking his chin out of my hand and I think he won’t answer me at all. “I…I know how this’ll sound,” He starts, talking at the wall, “But I-I was jealous. I’m not used to sharing you with other people. It’s just usually me and you.” He swallows harshly, “And you and Steve are always so _happy_ together. And I know…I know I’m _not_ and I ain’t easy to be around either and I…” He trails off and doesn’t continue.

I set the comb aside and put a hand on either of his shoulders, taking care with his left, “Babydoll, I’m not your friend because I think you’re Steve. I’m here ‘cause I like _you_. Besides I’m happy when I’m here too. I think the world of you, haven’t you figured that out by now?”

Bucky has went completely still at my words, even his breathing has stopped and I worry I’ve went too far, said too much. I fear I’ve made him feel trapped. Sometimes someone caring about you can feel a lot like suffocation. But then he lets his legs down and turns around and I’m suddenly standing between his knees as he reaches up and tucks some hair behind my ear, his finger curving down my jaw, heat crawling into my cheeks. He lets his hand fall away and glances away from me. “You don’t know how good that is to hear but how hard it is to believe.”

“Why’s that?”

“You’re good and I’m not.” He says closing his eyes. I reach out to cup a hand around the side of his neck, thumb sweeping over the stubble on his jaw. Bucky doesn’t flinch away, doesn’t even open his eyes at the touch and I’m amazed at the trust he has in me. Only the slight hitch in his breath alerts me to possible discomfort but when I try to slide my hand away he reaches up to press his hand over mine, keeping it there.

“You _are_ good,” I assure him, my heart breaking.  

He just shakes his head and pulls my hand away from his neck before twisting our fingers together. “Thank you for saying so, doll. But I can’t say I agree.” He pauses and takes a breath, seeming to steel himself to ask something, say something. “Are you…are you and Steve, y’know, together?” He opens his eyes to gauge my reaction to his question. I can only stare at him in shock, my mouth falling open. His eyes dart away from mine, “’Cause if you are you can tell me-,”

“What the hell gave you _that_ idea?” I ask, mortified by the thought.

“You-I-he,” he splutters, “You were wearing his scarf and he-he’s always takin’ you places and paying for dinner and-,”

I shake my head and smile, fisting my other hand on my hip and jutting it out, “Buck, you got the wrong idea there. Steve’s just very nice and very lonely and very much missing doing things with his best friend and also maybe afraid of Peggy so I get to be his shitty alternate.”

He shakes his head as I tug my hand out of his to grab the blow dryer and sort out detangling the cord and plugging it in. “What about the scarf?” Bucky asks stubbornly.

“I didn’t listen to him about the cold and almost froze to death so he very kindly saved my life and lent his to me.” I motion him to turn around and he does still looking confused as he crosses his legs again. I press my hand into his shoulder blade, feeling the tense, knotted muscle there and massage gentle but firm circles into his back. “Besides I already got a guy,” I say, meaning it as a joke. His whole body tenses, goes so taut I think the muscles in his neck might snap. I move my hand to the back of his neck and knead my fingers there until he relaxes a bit.

“Who?” He bites out darkly, menacingly.

I laugh and wrap my arms around him from behind like I had Sam and Tommy earlier, pressing our cheeks together as I squeeze him. His hand comes up and hooks possessively in the crevice of my elbow. His damp hair sticks to the side of my face as I cheekily say, “You.” I kiss his cheek and pull away.

He sighs out a breath and relaxes but his laugh still sounds tight, “Yeah, sure.”

I frown, “Am I not good enough to be your girl, Bucky Barnes?”

“I ain’t good enough to be your guy,” he says with such sincerity and sureness that my heart cracks and fractures, panging in a way I’ve come to associate with Bucky.

I don’t know what to say to this so I pat his shoulder in what I hope is a reassuring fashion and turn the blow dryer on. When his hair is completely dry I can’t resist running my fingers through it and he nearly purrs as I do. I laugh and take my hands away, wishing I didn’t have to.

We go back to the main room and move the coffee and brownies to the bedside table. Bucky sits reclined at the head of the bed and I sit at the foot, crossing my legs. He frowns at me.

“What?” In response he just pats the space next to him. “Nuh-uh. We’re gonna play cards and I know you’ll look.”

He crosses his finger over his heart, “Promise I won’t.”

“You’re a sore loser.”

He pinches my leg gently, “I promise I won’t be. I don’t go back on promises.”

I pretend to think about it and then shake my head, grinning, “Nope. Still don’t trust you.”

He pouts, “You don’t trust me?” I shake my head solemnly. He sighs, “Fine but could you do somethin’ for me?”

“What’s that, _Buchanan_?” I ask and he rolls his eyes at the name.

He reaches into the front pocket of his hoodie and pulls out a hair tie, “Said I’d keep it safe didn’t I? _Promised_ y’know? But I kinda wanna use it again.” He holds it out to me.

I marvel at the fact that he did manage to keep my hair tie, safely, just as I’d asked him to. But I also try not to think about why he had it on his person, why he might be carrying it around with him. Distracted I stand and he turns slightly so I can put his hair into a ponytail and just as I’m about to move away he wraps his arm around me and hauls me down onto the bed next to him.

“You dirty cheater!” I gasp as he chuckles next to me. I tug on a stray strand of his hair gently. “Using my own hair tie against me.”

“I did want it up you know. Just thought I could use it to my advantage too.” He smiles at me as he tucks his arm around my shoulders, satisfied with himself.

I pull away a bit and sit up fully, his arm falls from around my shoulders down to my waist, his fingers on my hip, he tugs me closer and I affectionately pull on his hair again. “Used to be short y’know.” He says nonchalantly, not quite meeting my eyes.

“Oh I know alright.”

He glances over at me in confusion, “How would you-,”

“Steve. He showed me a picture.”

Bucky huffs out an annoyed breath, “He gets to tell you everything good about me before I do.” He pauses and takes his arm away from me, picking at a loose thread in the blanket instead, “Which way do you like it?”

“Which way do _you_ like it?” I counter, thinking it important that Bucky decides how he wants and likes to look.

He shakes his head, picking at the thread more roughly now, “I don’t know…They didn’t cut it y’know? Wasn’t really at the top of their list of things to do to me.”

“Bucky…”

“Sorry, sorry-,” he starts, misinterpreting my tone.

“No, it’s good. You should talk about these things,” I say as gently as I can.

He looks at me ashamedly, “But you shouldn’t have to hear them.” Guilt and regret is heavy in his eyes. He wraps his arm back around me, hand on my hip and tugs me a bit closer. 

I reach out and cradle his jaw in my hand. He leans into my touch and closes his eyes. “Maybe not. But I want to because I know it helps you. Makes it easier to tell Sam.” It’s quiet for a few seconds.

Then, “They saved my life, Artemis. I don’t know how to live with that.”


	16. High Sign and Halloween

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm really, very unsure about the first part of this one. Let me know. Love it, hate it, indifferent. And, of course, thanks for reading babes.

Bucky keeps his eyes closed, Artie’s hand still warm and soft but callused on his face. He can feel her shock, sense it and is afraid of what he might see in her eyes if he opens his. _They saved my life, Artemis. I don’t know how to live with that._ He tries to beat back the feeling that he shouldn’t have said this.

Eventually she regains a bit of composure and sweeps the pad of her thumb over his cheek. “What do you mean by that?” Then a few seconds later she shifts closer to him, her hand dropping away from his face, feels her fist it in the front of his hoodie as she places her head tentatively on his shoulder. “I’ll wait, babydoll.”

Bucky’s hand is still on her hip but he wants her hand and doesn’t know how to get it without shifting her away from him. He moves his hand slowly up to rest on her waist instead and Artie, God bless her, he’ll never find someone else like her as long as he lives, moves her hand from his hoodie to rest on top of his own. Her palm rests on the back of his hand as she pushes her fingers through his and curls them inward.

He lets himself feel her warmth, the length of her body pressed into the side of his. Bucky scoots down a bit and opens his eyes as he rests his head on the top of Artie’s.

He finally finds his voice, “The day I was taken I had been shot. You know about that.” Bucky pauses and swallows, wondering if he should tell her about this. He knows if he doesn’t say anything else that she won’t push him for more. This will prove to her, after all, that he’s tainted, by what he can’t even say.

“It was a fatal wound. Blood was everywhere, dust and dirt had probably blown into it, pretty sure it hit somethin’ important. Then…that man…he-he shot a semi, braced on my shoulder. I was deaf in my left ear after that, could really barely hear out of the right.”

Her body has gone still and Bucky wonders if he should stop. “Deaf? But…you can hear out of it now?”

He swallows thickly, “Yes.” He squeezes her tighter and she presses herself closer. Her nose bumps into his neck, ice cold and he jumps. She pulls away immediately.

“Sorry!”

He clutches her hand, “It’s okay, was just cold, doll.” Bucky waits for her to settle back down before he continues, “Not to mention my arm was fucking blown off. If that didn’t kill me from blood loss then the infection that set in should have.”

Her warm breath fans over his neck, her lips parted and dangerously close to his skin. It’s an odd contrast, the wonderful feeling of her nearness and the horrifying memories playing out in his mind. He imagines her mouth pressing into his skin for just a moment before he tries to soldier on through what he wants to tell her.

“I…wasn’t conscious for most of the time we traveled. I knew they were the people we had been looking for because they didn’t speak Arabic or any of the local languages. It was a mixture of Russian and German.”

Artie squeezes her fingers around his again and whispers, “It’s okay Bucky. I’m here with you. Can you feel me?”

He nods and gasps out a sob, his mind trying to shut down the memories. “Take a minute, huh babydoll? Then you can decide if you wanna say more.”

He doesn’t take her advice and continues on anyways, breathing labored, “They were experimenting on people. Children mostly. Taking advantage of the upheaval in the region. They knew they could get away with it, that they wouldn’t be the biggest concern or even noticed all that much. The people were easy to take because they wouldn’t be missed and there were no authorities to report it to. Especially considering how few they took in comparison to what others were doing, they were easily overlooked.”

“Bucky, stop,” she says, pulling away from him. The most embarrassing, needy noise escapes him as she does, taking her warmth with her. She sits up and leans away from him as his heart drops into his stomach and shatters. God he’s so fucking stupid for thinking she would want to hear this. Bucky can only describe her expression as terrified.

“Sorry-,” he starts, voice rasping and awful. Her face crumples and she pulls him toward her, wrapping her arms firmly around him.

“ _Don’t_ do that. Don’t. I just need you to breathe, hon, I can’t have ya having a panic attack okay? You ain’t scarin’ me off or anything. Match your breathing to mine, okay? Can you do that? Try to?”

She takes an exaggerated breath in and lets it slowly back out. Their chests are pressed together and he knows she’s done this on purpose to comfort him but also so he can feel as well as hear her breathing pattern. He tries to do the same and fails miserably the first couple of times, his lungs hitching too much.

When he finally manages it, heart rate slowing, suddenly feeling exhausted, he realizes she’s humming something low and soft and sweet, fingers tracing up and down his spine. He listens for a while as he tries to identify the song.

“I’m ready,” he says after a while but doesn’t let her go.

“Okay.” Her fingers dash across his ribs and flit over his shoulder blades. When her nervous fingers finally stop dancing he continues.

“When we arrived they made sure I was awake. They staunched the bleeding and dumped rubbing alcohol on me. I was near dead. Then, they strapped me down and started jamming needles into me. I don’t know how long it went on but it-,”

He cuts off and has to match breathing with Artie before it can get out of control again, who won’t let him continue unless he calms down. “You’re doing well, lovely. I’m here with you.”

He nods, glad for her encouragement. “It was excruciating. It felt like skin splitting open and knives driving into you and bones cracking and breaking. And it felt like all of that knitting back together. They were experimenting with human regeneration. That’s why they took me and not Steve. Steve was in too good of a condition for them to want.” He swallows down the bile in his throat, clutching at Artie a little harder, but he manages to keep himself under control. “So, they healed me and saved me but what they did only worked partially. They dug the bullet out of my stomach and the wound knitted itself up with a few trials and error. And then my hearing came back, maybe better than before.”

Her hand goes to the back of his neck, carding through the hair there still stuck in its ponytail. “I’m here, Bucky. And _you’re_ here.”

“I know, doll, I’m here with you,” he assures her. She relaxes in his arms just a bit and presses a kiss to the hinge of his jaw. Bucky melts into her, absolutely so fucking pleased about her nearness, about that kiss. He imagines the same sensation lower, on his neck, and then on his mouth and then he remembers what he supposed to be talking about.   

“It didn’t heal my arm. Closed the wound, sure. Stomped out the raging infection, sure. But it didn’t grow it _back_. That pissed them off. The wound closed but even that didn’t go as planned. It was painful and awful looking and took longer than they liked to heal. So they kept tryin’, kept injectin’ me with different stuff they came up with. And I kept wishin’ that they’d let me die.”

Bucky sighs and takes his hand away from her back where he had fisted it in the soft material of her shirt. He notices then that she’s shivering and leans forward to grab a blanket and drape it around her shoulders. “Were there more, Buck?”

He shrugs, “Yeah. I only saw ‘em once. I won’t talk about that.” If he tells her about that he knows she’ll leave and never come back. She nods against him, letting him know she won’t ask.

It’s quiet for a few minutes before Artemis speaks again, “Just because they saved your life, just because someone bad saved your life, doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to live it. _You_ are still Bucky Barnes.”

“But I should have died that day. Everyone else did.”

Artemis realizes then that Bucky’s problem isn’t so much with those people saving his life but the fact that he didn’t die with his team. Certainly it bothered him for evil people to have spared him but the guilt of his team dying was worse, added to the guilt that he was saved. It was something Steve struggled with too. Survivor’s guilt. She wonders if they’ve talked about it before.

She strokes her hand though his hair again and she buries her face in his neck, enjoying being held way too much, especially when he was so fragile and vulnerable. Artemis makes herself pull her face away. Bucky shivers with the loss of heat from his neck and Artie moves the blanket around his back so they’re safely cocooned together.

“Steve didn’t.”

“Steve deserves to live.”

“So do _you_ ,” She whispers and pulls back to look into his eyes, “You _do_ , babydoll, you _do_.”

He’s so close, eyes wide and blue and fractured and full of adoration. His lips parted and lovely and soft looking and pink. Before she can do anything stupid she presses herself back into an embrace, warm and secure and _safe_. He tucks her head under his chin and holds her, not quite believing that he deserves to live, not sure he ever will. But he’s glad that he’s alive anyways.

 

~

 

Bucky is gritting his teeth again, on edge and tense. It’s about a week later, Halloween night, and he’s not in the hospital but across the street at the café, pretending to listen to a football game on the radio while Tommy attempts to teach him how to make cookies. Really he’s just been glaring out the front window as Artemis and Steve hand out candy to trick-or-treaters. They stand close together, carved pumpkins lit with tea lights at their feet, leaves swirling around them as they ooo and ahh their way through every child’s costume. Artie gives out candy to any person who stops by whether they’re in costume or not, no matter what age. She smiles brightly and slips them something. It makes Bucky’s heart hurt.

“Hey man you need to quit that or you’re gonna break your teeth,” Tommy says, spooning out cookie dough onto a pan. Bucky doesn’t know when the dough got made and decides he doesn’t care as he watches Artemis lean down and admire a little girl in a ninja costume before transferring some candy to her pillowcase used as a makeshift sweets stash.

Artie herself is dressed as a fairy princess. A long, flowing gown wraps around her form, blue and green and gold, making her look like she was caressed by the forest and the ocean alike. Her hair is braided down her back, metallic gold pieces woven in and a crown of twigs perched on her head. Of course the whole thing is rather put off by the hoodie she’s wearing overtop of it. _His_ hoodie, a blue one she claimed she like best on herself and second best on him.

Bucky thinks she looks lovely, sweatshirt or not. What irks him is Steve dressed as her fairy prince looking halfway to ridiculous in brown tights and a flowy white shirt, boots up to his knees and a crown of twigs to match her own. They look something like a perfect couple.

“You know she woulda done that with you in a heartbeat but you don’t go out. She didn’t expect you here for Halloween either or she woulda planned something everybody could be a part of. Seriously quit grindin’ your teeth though it’s putting me on edge. They’re just friends you jealous bastard.”

Bucky just rolls his eyes used to Tommy’s snarky-ness by now.

  
~

 

Outside Steve and Artie wave as a few smaller children and their parents turn down the block. It’s quiet for a second and Steve turns to Artie.

“I asked Peggy out.”

She gasps, turning to him, beaming, “You did?! And?”

“She said yes. So thanks. But now it’s your turn.” She frowns and he hooks a thumb over his shoulder at the café.

“Me and Tommy? I told you Stevie we’re just friends,” she says cheekily.

He rolls his eyes, “You know who I mean.”

She shrugs and takes in the street void of trick-or-treaters and increasingly filled with party goers. “I think that’s the last of the kiddos.” Artemis turns to Steve, stomach churning, “I need to ask you somethin’.”

He turns, immediately concerned by her tone, “What is it?”

“What were you guys doin’ overseas? Who were you chasin’?”

Steve has gone deathly pale, “What makes you ask that?”

She swallows harshly and tries to control her increasing panic at Steve’s reaction to her question, “Bucky said those people spoke Russian and German. So, I’ll ask you again. Who were you after?”

He shakes his head, not meeting her eyes, “What happened to _you_? Why do you need to know?”

“I think we need to have a chat Rogers.” She glances over her shoulder to see Bucky staring out the window at her from his place behind the counter, as Tommy says something to him. Bucky doesn’t even turn his head. She smiles and waves and gets the tiniest of waves and a smile in return making her beam wider. “Later though. Me, you, and Bucky.”

He nods solemnly and they make their way back inside. Her wide grin still in place, Steve following her lead.  

“Thomas! Are those cookies done yet?” Artie asks, depositing the leftover candy on the counter, swishing into the café and pulling her hoodie off. Bucky’s heartrate skyrockets at the sight of her in that dress without the hoodie, her curves nicely outlined. The top is tightly fitted but modestly cut, the material flowing out at the hips, bell sleeves loose around her wrists. It’s then he notices the fake sword strapped around her waist.

“No, because Bucky is the most useless cookie helper I’ve ever had.”

“Buck!” she exclaims as she dances behind the counter where Bucky leans and Tommy grumbles under his breath about Bucky’s incompetence with baking and unwillingness to assist besides. “Why weren’t you helping?”

He shrugs and glares at Tommy for outing him as Tommy smiles innocently. Artie winds an arm around Bucky’s waist and pulls him close while reaching up with her other hand to grab his face, squishing his cheeks. “He was too busy being adorable.” She makes kissy faces at him and laughs when he turns completely red.

“Aw Buck, hear that, you’re adorable.” Steve coos at him, knowing Bucky won’t be able to say anything back. Artemis lets go of his face, still laughing.

He just glowers forebodingly and wraps his arm around Artemis’s waist, tucking her safely into his side. Tommy rolls his eyes, “Yeah well that’s a real comfort to me, isn’t it? I’ll be back in a bit. Got actual _work_ to do,” he says and pushes the door to the kitchen open, balancing a tray of unbaked cookies in his hands.

As soon as he’s gone Bucky turns to Artie and says sincerely, “You look great, doll.” Then he turns to Steve and says, “And you look like an asshole.”

Artie bursts out laughing, squeezing Bucky’s side as Steve looks offended and blushes at the same time. Bucky looks smug as Steve stutters out a reply, “I-It’s for the kids and Artemis said I had to.” He looks to her for support.

She just shakes her head sadly, “Oh Steve don’t blame me for that disaster.”

Steve rolls his eyes as they both laugh. Artie pulls away from Bucky despite his fingers digging into her side, attempting to convince her without words not to move, and slides over to Steve, adjusting his crown for him. “Aw, poor thing, I think you look charming, babydoll.” She stares into his face as he grins at her, “Hmmm, I think the crown would look better with dark hair though.” She ducks around him and smacks his ass playfully, “Though that ass in those tights makes up for it. I’m goin’ to change.” And with that she darts away through the kitchen door fake sword swinging wildly.

Bucky is absolutely seething by the end of it. _Charming_ and _babydoll_ (that’s her nickname for _him_ alone) and the sound of her hand hitting Steve’s ass echoing in his head.

Steve notices and smiles tightly, “Buck, she was just messin’ around. You know how she is.”

The thing is, he doesn’t know. Artie hardly ever let her playful side come out around him and the more time he spent at the café the more he realized that that’s just how she is. She’s spirited and lively where with him she’s more reserved and serious. It hurt him to know she felt like she couldn’t be herself around him. She certainly felt she could be herself around Steve. He sighs and sits at the bar, feeling defeated. “I know,” he says to Steve instead of admitting that any time she’s like that with him it’s quickly cut off. 

“You don’t have anything to worry about you know. We don’t feel that way about each other.”

Bucky’s head whips around so fast it almost hurts. “I don’t-,”

“Yeah ya do.” He opens his mouth to say more but Artie bounces back through the swinging kitchen door clad in Halloween themed pajamas, a fitted black ensemble with pumpkins on, an apron tied around her waist replaces her sword, thick socks covering her feet.

“I’m gonna make pumpkin pie. You boys wanna help? I know Bucky’s gotta be gettin’ back but-,”

“Yeah, absolutely,” Steve cuts her off before Bucky can say no.

“Good! Cause I’m already on to November. Once the Halloween costume comes off October is dead to me.” She says in spite of the pajamas she’s wearing and motions them to follow her through the kitchen door. “Tommy put the cookies in and went to bed so we gotta look out for those and I’m tryin’ some kinda vegan pie thing for Athena so it’ll probably be gross.” She continues to chatter at them, handing the two of them aprons, demanding hand washing and setting them tasks.

Altogether it takes them no time at all and they’re soon sitting at the counter in the back as Artie makes tea. She refuses point blank to give Bucky coffee as she knows he won’t sleep at all if she does, and tells them stories about her childhood.

“-so then they had to call the fire department to get us down off the barn and by that time that damn cat had gotten down itself and we looked like the village idiots.” She hands Bucky a cup and then Steve before setting about adjusting hers.

“It sounds like you two were town heroes,” Steve says.

“Only cause Tommy taught me how to be good, how to be kind. He’s two years older than me you know and I always looked up to him. We’ve been friends since we were just babies. I think it’s why I’m not anything like my sister or my mother. He helped y’know, with the twins and such. Told his mom he had a project and would run over in the morning, helped me fix them lunch or get them dressed. He’s always been by my side.” She sighs then smiles, “Sorry, gettin’ a little nostalgic.”

She reaches over subconsciously and takes Bucky’s hand, happy that he doesn’t pull away. Bucky clutches it hard, reminding her where she is as Steve asks, “Why didn’t you live with Tommy’s family?”

She shakes her head, “God, no one knew what was goin’ on. I knew that the second I told an adult they would take us all apart from each other. My mother would have been deemed an unfit parent, the twins woulda been split up, and I woulda been taken away from Tommy. And I know that Athena wouldn’t have done anything to stop any of it so I kept my trap shut.”

Bucky’s chest hurts as he listens to her but finds comfort knowing that she had someone by her side then. “He’s a good friend,” he says quietly.

She smiles sidelong at Bucky as Steve asks, “How’d you end up in the military together?” Her whole body goes still and taut as she pulls her hand harshly out of Bucky’s. And Bucky could punch Steve, first for upsetting her but also because he knows better than to ask that sort of question and now Bucky is left with a stinging sensation in his hand.  

“We-I…I come from a military family. Practically everyone on my dad’s side signed up as soon as they were old enough for a few generations back. I never thought about doin’ anything else and I wasn’t good at school anyways, didn’t have the time to be. Tommy always knew I’d go and he always said he’d go with me when I did.” Her eyes are distant as she says this, voice hollow. She clears her throat and abruptly dumps her tea down the drain of the sink as she suddenly looks sick, “You guys better get going or you’re gonna get Peggy and Sharon in trouble.”

Before they can go Artie makes them take some of the cookies that had been cooling and promises to let them taste the pie tomorrow even if it’s horrible, _especially_ if it’s horrible. Bucky stops her, as Steve exits the kitchen, and very carefully pulls her into a hug.

“I’m proud of you,” he says in her ear, wondering if it sounds stupid, wondering if it even means anything coming from someone like him. He is proud of her though, immensely proud of her for being so strong. Even if she doesn’t have to be.

But she hugs him back tightly and says, “Thanks so much, babydoll. No one’s ever told me that before.” He kisses her cheek, heart in his throat.

She giggles and pulls away, “You’re so scratchy.” Artie brings her hand up to caress his ‘scratchy’ cheek and says, “I’ll see you in a few hours.” She smooths her thumb back and forth before pressing her thumb to the indent in his chin, forcing him to keep his eyes locked on hers not that he would have looked away, “I think as long as we keep being proud of each other we can keep the world spinning.”  


	17. Bad Things and Backstory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm really, super frustrated with myself and this story right now. I definitely don't feel that this is my best but I can't figure out what's wrong with it either. Sometimes the words just don't do what you want them to.

Bucky isn’t happy about this situation, not at all. He had come back from the gym to find not Artemis, but Steve waiting for him. Not that he isn’t glad to see his best friend, it’s just that this is his time reserved for Artie. Artie who had begun sitting on the bed with him, curled into his side, kissing his cheek or his shoulder or the palm of his hand any chance she got. Who let him hold her and press his mouth to her hair and hold her hand as long as he liked. It’s perfect and everything but also devastating and not enough at the same time. He wants to kiss her lips and know that she’s his and his alone, and to keep the world spinning through pride in each other but he thinks maybe it’ll take time.

Time to prove he’s worth it, both to her and to himself. Prove that he can be whole and lovable if only he’ll let himself, if only she’ll accept that he can be (sometimes he thinks she already has).

But now Steve is here and he can’t prove anything with Steve around. He can’t hold her and drag his hand through her hair or listen to her breathe and trace her spine. He can’t do any of it. But he also can’t make Steve leave. Bucky and Artemis were going to read together today, tonight. Artemis sitting between his legs or beside him holding a book aloft as he rests his chin on her shoulder nodding against her when he finishes the page and marveling at the feel of her back pressed against his chest. They’ve just started a horrific and excellent book called _City of Thieves_. Artie was worried that the content might not be good for him to read but nothing has set him off so far and, in fact, it makes him feel less odd. Artie thinks maybe they should read more war fiction. But they won’t tonight because Steve is here.

And if Steve is here Bucky is probably going to have to sort out drying his hair himself which he hates doing and Artie loves to attend to.

So generally everything is ruined but at least this is his biggest problem at the moment. Things, after all, have definitely been worse.

Bucky glances at Steve sitting at the table and then at the bathroom door, “So, what’re ya doin’ here so early?”

Steve just smiles and laughs, “I know, I know, I’m intruding on Bucky and Artemis time but I think it’s the best time we can all talk.”

Anxiety settles in Bucky’s gut, “Talk about what, Stevie?” His throat closes. God it had to be something bad, something horrible, terrible-

Steve gives him an apologetic look, “Artie wants to tell us what happened to her and Tommy.” He pauses for a second, “You don’t have to listen if you-,”

“I’ll listen.” She always listens to him. She’s always there. He’d be there to hear her. Although he wonders why Steve needs to be there. Isn’t he enough? Doesn’t she trust him? Feel safe with him?

Bucky imagines her speaking, telling her story. Imagines her crying, panicking. Imagines himself trying to comfort her only for her to turn to Steve and tuck herself securely into him. “I’m going to shower,” he says to Steve gruffly, who looks worriedly at him.

“Bucky, she’ll understand if you can’t.” Steve says, not moving from his spot at the table.

“It isn’t that.”

“Then what is it?” Bucky considers telling Steve for about two seconds, decides that Steve will just deny it and doesn’t say anything at all.

 

~

 

Twenty minutes and a failed attempt at drying his hair himself later, Bucky is struggling with the cord and cursing up a storm when a knock sounds on the door. It swings open and then shuts, Artie waltzing in and immediately commanding him. Bucky sits down, fucking glad he doesn’t have to deal with the blow dryer anymore, when he notices Artie keeping her distance, trying to give him space.

“What’s wrong?” She’d have usually touched him by now.

She frowns, “Steve told me you were upset and-,”

“I’m not upset,” he says, trying to sound sincere. He reaches out to her but she darts away, a smile on her face.

“Better tell me Buchanan. I know when you’re trying to bullshit me.”

“What if I don’t wanna tell you?” He means it as a joke but her face falls.

“You don’t ever have to tell me-,” she starts, sounding embarrassed and dejected.

“Doll,” he reaches out again and this time she lets him catch her. Bucky pulls Artemis to stand between his legs, hand slipping down to her hip. He looks away from her, ashamed about his feelings. “I just don’t understand why Steve has to be here.”

It’s quiet for a second before her hands come down on either side of his jaw as she cradles his face. Bucky immediately leans into her touch as she says, “I trust you Bucky. But Steve does need to be here for this because it concerns him too.” Bucky pulls her down into his lap as she loops her arms around his neck. Bucky’s amazed, as he always is, at her ability to understand him without much explanation at all. He presses his face into her shoulder, breathing in her scent, mint and coffee, silently urging her to explain.

“It’s hard for me to say Buck. But I think…I think that the same people that hurt you were there the day something bad happened to us.”

Bucky goes deadly still as he wraps his arm protectively around her waist. Even the thought of them being close to Artie put him on edge and he remembers his nightmare. Artie, bleeding and bruised and broken, choking around blood and tears. She yelps suddenly and Bucky releases his death grip around her waist immediately. “Sorry-,”

She only tucks some still damp hair behind his ear and skims her lips along his hairline, “I’m here. We’re here. And we are _okay_.” Bucky nods against her. “You did a terrible job with your hair.”

Bucky laughs and pulls back, “I know. That’s why I need you here.”

“That’s the only reason huh? I knew you kept me around for something.” Artemis looks into his eyes and leans down, Bucky nearly having a heart attack as she does. She presses her mouth to his ear and says, “The only reason I keep you around is the fact that you’re so pretty when you blush.”

She kisses the side of his head and pulls back, rewarded with the sight of Bucky flustered and red. “You’re terrible,” he accuses her, voice tight. She laughs and pinches him gently.

“I know.” She kisses his cheek, “I need you to be here with me when I tell this story.”

“I’m here. I’ll be here with you.”

 

~

 

Bucky sits between Artie and Steve at the table by the window. Artemis keeps her hand in his and Bucky tries not to feel triumphant. Her leg is bouncing nervously as they wait for her to start. Steve looks concerned, brows scrunched.

“So, we were patrolling. It was a dangerous area and the village was in danger of being overrun by insurgents when we got an order to go in and start evacuation. We weren’t told who or where or how much time we had. But we were told the children were important.” She pauses and takes a deep breath then carefully extracts her hand from Bucky’s. He tries not to mourn the loss, knowing that as much as he needed touch to say what he had to that Artemis might not function the same way.

“We don’t usually get that kinda time though, you guys know that. It usually comes too late. So, me and Tommy were put together to clear a med clinic. Easy enough. Well, we thought.”

Her hands are shaking and she hates it so she shoves them underneath her thighs, hunching forward so she doesn’t have to look at Steve and Bucky as she says these things. “We were meant to come home soon. We were on the last leg of our tour. We had maybe a month left, if that. We were gonna come home and Tommy was gonna go back to college and things were gonna be alright. I was going to go with him. Wasn’t sure what I was gonna do but I figured if Athena could do it it couldn’t be all that hard.”

She shakes her head and laughs bitterly. “That’s what I was thinking about as I helped children evacuate a hospital with a gun in my hands. I was thinking about goddamn college life with Tommy and wonderin’ what finals week would be like.”

“Artie-,”

“If I don’t say this right now I never will, Barnes.” She takes another calming breath, “so, we were just about done, there weren’t many left anyhow and I had a little girl by the arm and I was makin’ faces at her to distract her. She was laughing at me when I heard this noise. High pitched and loud.”

Artemis finally looks up, tears streaking her face and she reaches out to both of the guys, each one taking one of her hands. Bucky can’t find it in himself to be jealous. He just wants her to feel safe, to remember where she is.

“I covered her as best as I could, caged my arms around her when the ceiling fell in. She was under me and I managed to cover her from the worst of it. Her face was a little dusty and she had a cut on her forehead but that was about it. She was scared though and cryin’. I couldn’t see Tommy though and there was this pain in my back and on my stomach though I didn’t know what it was til later.”

She pauses and Bucky takes the chance to squeeze her hand. She squeezes back, letting him know that she’s still there with them.

She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, “So, the building fell in and I couldn’t see Tommy anywhere. Couldn’t see nothin’ much but I could hear ‘em. I recognized Russian and then German too. I was terrified. I didn’t know who they were. But I knew I had to get that little girl out. But there was a chuck of ceiling pressing down on me and she was cryin’.” Artemis takes a shuttering breath, “I knew we were goners. It didn’t even cross my mind that they might be friendlies. It’s a good thing too or we mighta-,”

She takes her hands back and tips her head back to stare at the ceiling. Bucky watches her mouth move as she counts backward from ten. It grounds him, calms his fluttering heart. It’s over now. They’re both here and safe.  

“Doll?” He asks when she just keeps staring at the ceiling.

She looks over and smiles tightly. “Sorry.”

“I knew the rest of our squad had evacuated the others as soon as the blast hit. I knew they wouldn’t be back for at least a few minutes. Then…I heard Tommy screamin’. It was the worst noise I’d ever heard and suddenly that plaster didn’t weigh _anything_. I grabbed that little girl and ran. Managed to remember my semi, which somehow didn’t get crushed. Somehow _I_ didn’t get crushed. I found out later though that I had some broken ribs, a few broken spinal plates, and a fractured ankle. In that moment I didn’t feel any of it.”

Artie hunches in on herself again and bows her head, eyes scrunching closed. Her voice is tight with emotion, cracking as her chest heaves. “They were all around him and-and-and,” she hiccups, “They were gonna take him, had him by the arms, guns pointed at him. I put the girl down and shoved her behind me so she wouldn’t see. And I let loose. Killed. Dead. All of ‘em.”

It’s quiet for a while and Bucky isn’t sure if he should touch her or not. She stays folded in on herself, taking shaky breaths and sniffling. Eventually Bucky can’t take it anymore, listening to her obviously distressed state, and reaches for her. Steve gives him a stern look but as soon as his hand touches her shoulder she leans into him. “I’m okay,” she says. She snuggles into Bucky’s side, eyes red and watering. “So, the reason I wanted tell you guys is what happened when we got home.”

“Tommy and I got patched up in England enough to go home, those kids and that little girl got sent to somewhere safe in Jordan. They took our statements. The official report said four dead but I knew there was at least eight. I told them about the languages they were speaking and I was told it was a stress response. That what I heard wasn’t what happened. That _of course_ they were speaking local languages, that of course there weren’t Russians and Germans there. They gave us a load of cash to shut up about it and I was so _tired_ of fighting that I gave in and said yes.”

She presses closer to Bucky who holds her tighter. Bucky can feel her body shaking and looks to Steve, giving the barest shake of his head. Steve nods and stands, moving around the table. “Artie?”

She looks up from Bucky’s shoulder and peels herself away as Steve opens his arms to her. Bucky’s heart sinks as she goes to him, enveloped fully by his thick arms. They look right together, he thinks. “That’s enough for today, huh kid?” She nods against his shoulder, “I’m gonna go then, leave you and Bucky to it.”

“Okay, Stevie, thanks for being here.”

“No problem, sweetheart.”

 

~

 

Nearly immediately after Steve leaves Bucky makes Artie lie down. She falls asleep as soon as her head hits the pillow, clearly emotionally and mentally exhausted. Bucky smooths her hair back from her face and watches her huff out soft, slow breaths. Her lips are parted slightly, her warm breath fanning across his arm. He pulls the blanket up around her, tucking it securely as she wiggles closer to him, her fingers wrapping securely around his upper arm as soon as he stops fidgeting with the blanket. Bucky lies down fully himself but can’t find it in himself to fall asleep. He watches the door and tenses any time he hears anything louder than a whisper, his whole body on edge.

He knows he needs to calm down, that he might wake Artie, but he can’t do it. He thinks about what Tommy said about the desert rubble in her head and in reality. Bucky hadn’t realized how literal it is for them, for her. That she had been nearly crushed to death saving a child. That Tommy had almost met the same fate as Bucky. He has the intense need to be alert at the moment, to protect.

Bucky swallows thickly, Steve and Artemis had more in common now than ever, would probably grow closer because of this revelation. She stirs slightly against him, nose scrunching, fingers tightening. Artemis groans and rolls onto her back, “Buck?” she asks, hoarsely, eyes still closed.

“I’m here, doll.”

“Oh good, I was worried I ran you off.” She blinks her eyes open and turns her head toward him as he adjusts the blanket over her that had slipped off when she rolled over.

He frowns at her, “Ran me off?”

She stares at him, tears filling her eyes, “I killed people, Buck.”

“Bad people,” he says, reassuringly, reverently, “Bad people that did bad things. To me and to little kids and almost to Tommy.”

“Then why does it still hurt?” she whispers, jerking away when he tries to take her hand.

Bucky tries not to feel stung, knowing that she’s particular about touch when her emotions are running high, “I don’t know, love. It just does.”

She reaches over and puts her hand over his heart, feels the steady, grounding beat of it. “Did you kill people?”

“Yes,” he says, not looking away from her eyes.

She presses her hand down with a little more force, a few tears slipping out of her eyes, “Do you hurt?”

“Most days.”

“Even though they hurt you?”

“Yes,” he puts his own hand over hers and threads their fingers together. “I think…maybe it hurts no matter what. But, like Sam is always sayin’, we gotta learn how to carry it so it isn’t so heavy.”

She gives a shaky, tearful laugh, sniffling a bit, “When did we switch rolls, Buck?”

He shrugs and smiles and presses her fingers back flat against his chest, “I like to think we’re helping each other, doll.”

Artie turns toward him and props herself up on one elbow then and takes her hand away from his chest. She leans forward and presses a soft kiss to his good shoulder and then his cheek before she settles against him again. “I think so too, babydoll. So thank you.”

Bucky kisses the top of her head and closes his eyes.

 

~

 

“What’s this one for?”

“Anxiety.”

“And this one?”

“Depression.”

“And this one?”

“Pain.”

“And-,”

“Why do you gotta know what all of these are for?” Bucky asks exasperatedly. They’re sitting at the table with Bucky’s pills spread out in front of him which had come with his breakfast. Artie is currently pestering him about what each of them were for. It’s Sunday and so she won’t leave for a while yet, if at all. Steve had dropped by and then left again to see if Peggy was on call.

She gives him a wounded look, then jokes, “What if you’re dyin’ or somethin’ and I gotta know which one to give you?”

He rolls his eyes and starts pushing the pills back into their little plastic cup, “Doubt any of these would save my life, doll.”

Artie just glances away. Bucky realizes belatedly that it might be important to her to know. “Which one do you wanna know about?”

“The blue one.” It’s the last pill in the cup, the only one she hadn’t gotten to.

“It’s for pain too but more geared toward phantom pain.” He shrugs, “I don’t think it actually does anything. They’re tryin’ to use the placebo effect against me.”

She frowns, “Are you in a lot of pain?”

“Some days are better than others.”

She reaches over and takes his chin in her hand, “Don’t lie to me, babydoll.”

“It hurts.”

“All the time?” She asks as he pulls his face away from her hand.

“Most of the time,” he grinds out, not really wanting to talk about it. He doesn’t particularly like bringing attention to the fact that he’s missing a limb or the fact that said _missing_ fucking limb _hurt_. It seems cruel and unfair to him that not only did he have to go through the pain of actually losing it and the psychological damage that came with it, but then _also_ have pain in a part of his body that he had parted with long ago.

He _really_ doesn’t like talking about it with Artie. It makes him feel incomplete and broken and not good enough. He usually almost forgets about it when he’s with her as she’s one of the few people that don’t bring attention to it, in fact seems not to notice at all. He knows, however, that she must, and that it must disgust her. It disgusts _him_ after all.   

Artemis suddenly makes a frustrated noise which lets Bucky know she’s been speaking to him and he hasn’t heard any of it. “Buck?”

“Sorry, doll.”

“What would help?” He stares at her, not comprehending the question.

“What?”

“The pain, Buck, what would help? I mean if the pill doesn’t do anything than maybe-,”

“Leave it alone, Artemis,” he says coldly.

Hurt flashes across her face, “Sorry.” She rubs a hand across her face and sighs, sounding very tired as she recoils, “Sorry.”

He watches her as she looks anywhere but him, face flushed, and picks at a spot on the table with one fingernail. _Goddammit_. “Artie, doll, I’m sorry. I know you worry but it’s manageable. Really it is.”

She looks up at him then and gives him a half-smile. “Okay.”

His heart drops into his stomach, “Please don’t do that. Don’t close me out.”

“I’m not tryin’ to. _You_ close _me_ out,” she accuses, voice quiet and crestfallen. “I don’t think of you any different, you know that right, babydoll?”

He looks away and clenches his jaw, knowing that she’s just trying to placate him. She reaches out and cradles his jaw, “Buck…” she whispers. “Bucky? Please look at me?” He does, the sincerity in her voice intriguing him. “I’ll let it go okay? But you gotta know it doesn’t matter, _it doesn’t matter to me_.”

He reaches up and takes one of her hands from his face, lacing their fingers together. Bucky melts under her warm gaze and knows that the truth will come out whether he wants it to or not. “I’m just afraid you might finally realize I am broken after all. It embarrassing anyways- to have pain in a part of your body that isn’t even there.”

She abruptly yanks him closer, crushing him into a hug, arms securely around his neck. “You. Are. _Not_. Broken. One day you’ll realize I’m right, that you are whole and beautiful just the way you are. And the pain? Baby, that’s _normal_. It _is_. And if there’s some way to help lessen it you’d better let me know.”

He leans against her and huffs out a long annoyed breath but he smiles when he feels Artemis laugh against him. “I don’t know. Never tried much else.”

She squeezes him tighter, “I’ll do some research and let you know.” He wraps his arm around her back and clutches her tight to himself.

Bucky closes his eyes and lets her hold him, wondering how he got so lucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?


	18. Thanksgiving Pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is (in part), Thanksgiving! I would love to hear your thoughts!

“Calm down, Artie.”

“I can’t. Not until they’re here and this is over.” In typical Shelby fashion every family member Artemis possesses is late to Thanksgiving. She grinds her teeth and glances over the people that are there. Bucky and Steve sitting with Peggy and Sharon in the corner at the table with the best vantage point. Artie hasn’t missed how Steve and Peggy hold hands under the table or how Bucky keeps glancing at her nervously. Sharon chattering happily at him and Bucky not hearing a word of it. Artie can’t help but admire Bucky a bit who decided to wear jeans and a Henley, a jacket layered overtop, with some sturdy boots. He looks good and she wishes she could go say something to him about it, to make him blush nervously, and to calm herself.  

Sam is nearby, ever outgoing, making rounds to the vets that he recognizes, and meeting and greeting those that he doesn’t. He’s also, Artie notices, steering people away from Bucky. It’s a fair sized crowd and Artemis hasn’t sat down in probably twelve hours and is starting to sway on her feet. She’s high strung and stressed with the anticipation of their arrival.

“Go sit down and talk to Barnes. You haven’t said anything to him since he got here and he might have an aneurism soon if you don’t,” Tommy tries to cajole her into relaxing. But Artemis cannot make herself, way too tense. So far none of her family has shown up and the day is starting to move toward evening now. That anticipation is killing her, not knowing when they were going to walk through that door, not keeping to the timetable Athena had indeed sent her via email.

Although Athena’s probably done this on purpose, with the knowledge that it would set Artie on edge.

“You go talk to your parents, Tommy. I’ll be okay.” He shakes his head but goes, knowing Artie isn’t in the mood to be coddled.  

 

~

 

Bucky, meanwhile, is trying not to have a panic attack or worry about Artemis too much. Because although she hasn’t been over to say hello or seek comfort, she does have Tommy right by her side, until she doesn’t. Bucky watches her mouth move and then Tommy shrug and move from behind the counter to sit with his parents.

Artie’s eyes remain tense and singularly focused on the front door. She smiles nervously for anyone that looks at her but it’s always quickly dropped. Finally her eyes meet his as she scans the room and he smiles reassuringly at her. Bucky watches as her resolve cracks and breaks and she makes her way across the café to him. She sits down quietly so as not to disturb the other three’s conversation. Artie leans close to Bucky who takes her hand under the table and squeezes. _It’s going to be okay._

She leans close and whispers to him, “Thank you, babydoll.” Bucky nods, his heartrate slowing, the air easier to breathe now that she’s next to him in this crowded, loud place. His food lies untouched and he knows she won’t be offended by this but worried.

“You aren’t eating?” She asks, her voice concerned, just as he’d predicted. He wonders if _she's_ eaten and wishes he could ask.

He shakes his head and she squeezes his hand, her face apologetic.

Artie presses close again and says, “If it becomes too much don’t hesitate to go, okay?” He nods again even though he knows he isn’t going anywhere. Artie smiles then, a real smile. “What did I say about trying to bullshit me, Barnes?”  

Artie reaches out and tucks some hair behind his ear as Bucky smiles at her. He looks good, she thinks, gaining weight all the time, smiling more. It makes her happy, heart warm and light, to know he’s doing not only better but _good_. Her eyes slide past his face and she freezes. Parked outside the shop is a black SUV, two men smiling and climbing out, sorting out whose bag is whose.

Artie wrenches away from Bucky and stands. She can hear Steve asking her something, Peggy sounding concerned. The door opens and two tall, identical, muscular men enter scanning the room. A strangled noise escapes Artie and she darts forward, nearly jumping on her brothers.

“ _Twins_!” Her voice is a keening wail, so filled with anguish and longing it hurts Bucky’s heart to hear. Her brothers drop their duffle bags and wrap their arms around her, smiles on their faces as they embrace their sister.

“Art!” They shout in unison.

“My babies!” She pulls back and begins checking them over, “How are you? Are you hungry? How was your trip? C’mon, c’mere, you look peckish. Have you lost weight twins?” As Artie began hustling them with questions some of the vets noticed the reunion and started clapping, smiling and hooting at them. Bucky wishes they would stop as the noise is putting him on edge but it also drowns out Artie’s voice, her grounding, gentle voice. The only thing that often makes sense to him is lost in the din of the crowd. Eventually the vets go back to their dinners, laughing and watching Artie.  

She gently begins crowding them forward, still firing off question after question at the boys who just smile and fire back answers just as fast. Bucky watches her slip into the role of fretful mother and smiles. Tommy gets up to greet them, shaking their hands and grinning ear to ear. The twins are obviously well loved.

Tommy moves off to bring out some more food as Artie heaves on the twins’ hands and Bucky realizes she’s hauling them over to their table. Bucky tries to school his features into a normal expression and force down his anxiety.

Artie is smiling widely, eyes crinkled at the corners, “Guys, I want you to meet my baby brothers, Ares and Apollo.”

The twins give large easy grins and make a show of shaking hands, bowing low to Peggy and Sharon, kissing their hands. They don’t try to shake Bucky’s hand and he wonders if they have their sister’s gift for reading people or if Artemis had managed to say something to them already. They don’t ignore him though, but beam and nod, smiles nearly identical to Artie’s own.

“Very good to meet ya! Names? C’mon Artie we gotta know names,” one of them (Ares?) says, poking his sister in the side.

“Yeah! C’mon, before Thena gets here and sucks the fun outta everything,” the other says, slinging an arm around Artie’s shoulders. She introduces each of them while the twins feign extreme interest, adding good-natured sarcastic comments here and there. Sam waltzes over to join in, smiling. Bucky did not think there would be this much smiling today but he’s glad there is.

Artie eventually makes them sit down and they pull her down along with them. “You needa eat too, Art!”

“Yeah! C’mon, you’re gettin’ all skin and bones on us.” So, Artie sits smashed between her brothers who are loud and raucous but also funny and friendly. Sam hits it off with them immediately, joking around and laughing. Bucky wishes they were just a tad quieter but Artemis looks happy and so he tries not to let his internal struggle with the sudden sensory overload show.

Everything is loud and the café is painted bright yellow with a contrasting dark green, still more color than he’s used to, the hospital sterile, neutral colors. There’s a stereo playing and people laughing and more voices going at once than he’s used to. Not to mention the smell of food and alcohol and deodorant and cologne, which he seems also to be able to taste. It’s a lot to handle and deep breathing doesn’t exactly help with so many different odors.

So, he sits and suffers and tries not to focus on any one thing too long lest it trigger him and ruin everything. Time seems to stretch out in front of him, never ending and unceasing.

“-Bucky?” Her voice cuts through the din. She and her twins are staring at him. Artie is frowning but the twins keep their smiles in place. “Did you hear me? Will you help me with somethin’? In the kitchen?”

He nods, upset with himself that he’s making her tear herself away from her brothers whom she very clearly cares about and missed dearly. But he’s also on the verge of an anxiety attack and so he takes her offer. She nods back at him and announces to the table that they’ll be back shortly. Bucky doesn’t miss Steve’s grateful expression directed at Artie.

He follows her to the kitchen and notices that the café is starting to empty out. More and more of the veterans heading home as the evening wears on. Bucky hadn’t even realized that Tommy’s parents brought out desserts.

As soon as they’re in the dark kitchen Artie tugs him close and lets out a long shaky breath. Bucky folds his arm around her back and takes a moment to ground himself and revel in the loss of all intrusive noises and sights and smells. Mint and coffee. Two warm arms around his waist. Very quiet, reassuring breaths that he can finally hear again and count. Bucky counts her every inhale and exhale and eventually breathing becomes normal again, easy.

“I’m sorry, doll, I’m sorry I need you so much,” he says when his frazzled mind will allow it. He sounds choked and desperate and he hates it.

She snuggles into him, pressing closer, “God, you idiot, I need you too.” She takes a deep breath, “I’m strugglin’ too, babydoll. I haven’t seen my boys in so long. They’re so much bigger than when they left, than when I left.” She sniffles a little, “Changed, y’know? Little tougher I think.” She laughs, sadly, “They shaved their heads. They used to have long hair.”

He just holds her closer as he can’t, with good conscience, say it’ll be okay. The twins, after all, are only on leave. They aren’t meant to stay in country. “I’m here,” he says instead, deciding that this is the best thing he can offer.

“I know. How’re you holdin’ up?”

“I thought your mother and sister were supposed to be here?” He asks, deflecting her question.

“They are. Who knows why they haven’t shown up.” Something twists in Bucky’s gut at her words. He has a foreboding feeling about their absence, like when they do arrive it’ll be that much worse. As it gets later and later there will be less and less of a buffer to restrain them from being too cruel. “Thank you for being here, it really means everything to me, Buck. You mean everything to me.”

He stills at her words, his heart panging, that a ruined thing like him could mean everything to her, so bright and wonderful.

“I can practically feel your self-deprecating thoughts and you better stop it right now.” She pulls back and presses the back of her hand to his face. “And you’re doin’ so well. So, so, so good and I know how hard it must be.” She pauses and makes him look into her eyes, trailing her hand down to cup around his neck. “We’re supposed to be proud of each other remember?”

Bucky brings his hand up around her back, rubbing his fingers over her spine, “I am proud of you.” And he is. She’s doing incredibly well dealing with all the people when he knows she’s internally struggling through every conversation.

“I want _you_ to be proud of _you_ too.”

He chuckles and she takes her hand away from his neck, blushing. “It’s a work in progress doll.”

“As long as it’s a progress and it’s workin’.” She looks over at the kitchen door and then pulls away from Bucky. “Let’s take a few more minutes, huh? Let me go visit my boys and we’ll eat dessert back here together.”

And Bucky, whose nerves are still stretched very thin, can’t bring himself to tell her no. He can’t bring himself to tell her no and go back out into that riot of noise and color and smells. So, he selfishly nods and hates himself a little more.

 

~

 

Artemis darts back out to her brothers who are regaling Steve and Sam in stories of their exploits overseas. She stands behind them and wraps her arms around the twins, “Lolo! Airy! That’s supposed to be classified isn’t it?”

They burst out laughing and turn, “‘Supposed to’ being the key words there, Art.”

“Where’s Bucky, Artie?” Steve asks, immediately concerned.

“We’re gonna eat dessert in the back if that’s okay. He’s still not quite himself.” Steve looks relieved and appreciative, smiling gently at her. Steve knows, of course, that Bucky’s struggling, could see the tightness behind his friend’s eyes, the nausea and anxiety he was trying to force down.  Steve also knows that he wouldn't have been able to make Bucky leave if he tried.

The twins turn to her, “’Course, Artie, take your time.”

“Still my sensitive boys, huh?”

“Yes, mom,” they answer in unison. She smiles and rubs their heads.

“Nice buzz cuts. You jackasses looked better with hair.” She says before patting Steve and Sam on the shoulders. “Peggy, Sharon, thanks for comin’ babes.”

“Thanks for having us!” Sharon says cheerily as Peggy nods, still holding Steve’s hand, who looks a bit dazed that she is.

The café is nearly empty now as Artie rushes back to Bucky, smiling and glancing at the clock. It’s late and Artie lets herself relax, maybe they weren’t coming after all. Bucky watches her flit around the kitchen, setting out plates and cups, milk and sugar and a pot of coffee, just for them, her face content. His stomach tightens again. Something isn’t right.

She’s just grabbing the pan of pumpkin pie from the fridge when the bell above the door out in the main part of the café clings followed by the sound of heels clicking on the wooden flooring.

“Oh Artie!” A shrill voice rings out, malicious in tone, “I’m here my darling sister!”

Bucky watches as Artemis goes deathly pale, her face draining of any color, the pie pan tumbles out of her hands and crashes onto the, orange substance coating the clean white tile floor, as another voice joins the other, louder and more hysterical, “My babies!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really excited for y'all to read the next part. :* <3


	19. Thanksgiving Pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, so I was going to wait to post this chapter but I'm too excited so here it is! As always I'd love to hear your thoughts! <3

The pie stays splattered on the floor as my hands shake and my breath hitches. I can feel a panic attack coming on, my lungs refusing to do their job, the room refusing to provide enough air. Tears start to from in my eyes when Bucky steps in front of me, deftly avoiding the ruined pie, “Artemis? Hey, I’m here. It’s okay, doll. We’re okay. Sam and Steve are out there. Your brothers. Peggy and Sharon. Tommy too.” He brings his hand up and cradles my cheek. “We’re here, Artemis, we’re here.”

I look into his eyes and he counts backward with me, slowly, even as my sister’s voice continues to rise. When my breathing is normal again he takes his hand away from my face and holds it out to me, “Together?”

“Together,” I breathe and take his hand. We step carefully over the pie and I push the kitchen door open, revealing my sister, high heels, pencil skirt and perfect hair, blouse pressed and ironed and flawless. She smirks at me and crosses her arms, eyes sliding to Steve whom she ogles hungrily, taking in the muscles and the height and the handsome face. Peggy and Sharon seem to have departed before my sister and mother arrived.

My mother’s eyes find mine from between the twins, who are leaning down to hug her but also away from her. I swallow thickly as she eyes me then shifts her focus to Bucky who stands beside me, his hand still firmly inside mine. Her eyes rove over Bucky, mean and cold and calculating, before her eyes land on the place his left arm should be, the sleeve of his Henley tied in a knot. I tug him behind me slightly, trying to shield him from her gaze.

She lets go of the twins and squeezes between them, “A soldier, Artemis? Really after everything this family has been through? A soldier?”

“I’m a soldier, mother. Everyone in this room is except you and Athena so watch what you say,” I warn, clutching at Bucky’s hand a little tighter.

“How dare you speak to Mother that way?” Athena gasps out and latches onto Steve who is too polite to pull away, her fingers curling around his arm.

“Leave her be, both of you,” Lolo says, nodding at me.

Mom ignores him and advances, Athena watching proudly, smugly, “We’re all well aware of what _you_ are. A _deserter_. Left us for the _Army_ , for _Thomas_. Now, I’ve had a long journey here and I’d like something to eat. If you do that sort of thing here.”

Her eyes dart to Bucky’s shoulder again even as I try to hide him, lip curling as she looks over to Tommy whose parents thankfully retired early, “Two of them now I guess.”

I still completely, anger coursing red hot through my veins, for her to speak about Bucky and Tommy as though they’re less than. Everyone in the café has gone silent, Athena’s eyes full of mirth as she takes in the scene, nails still digging into Steve’s arm. I open my mouth to say something when my mother interrupts me, voice suddenly small and broken, “Aren’t you going to give your mother a hug?”

I swallow thickly and start to let go of Bucky’s hand, who squeezes mine harder than he ever has when Tommy intervenes. “Wouldn’t you like something to eat, Mrs. Shelby?”

“Oh, yes, of course Thomas.” Tommy takes her by the arm and leads her to a table, suddenly the frail little lady. I grit my teeth and watch as she sits down, Tommy taking full control of the situation.

“C’mon, find a seat if you’re stayin’. We understand if you don’t.” I nod at Sam and Steve but all they do is take seats, Steve gently extracting his arm from Athena’s grip, who pouts at him.

My mother has been this way since I can remember and I still don’t know if she fakes it, unsure if she’s gaslighting me or not. One second she's cruel and cutting, the next defenseless and confused.

“C’mon Buck,” I say, my voice emotionless and hollow to my own ears as I pull him after me. The twins settle next to Bucky and I. Athena makes sure to get the seat across from us, her eyes never wavering from mine, smile icy and forbidding as she assesses everything and everyone in the room out loud. Things that make the cut: Steve and Sam and herself. Everything else does not and receives her harshest criticisms. She hates the café, the colors aren’t right and the floor’s disgusting and the pictures of real people tacky. Then she says she hates coffee, and that pastries are fattening while giving me a pitying look.  

Everyone spoons food onto plates, but no one really does anything but push the food around. Athena openly frowns at it in disgust, wrinkling her nose.

She tries commanding Tommy to get her various things and then tries flirting with Steve, neither of which work. The twins try intercepting her, try making her stop but she’s on a roll and our mom has gone mute as well as deaf as the evening rolls on. Rude comment after rude comment falling from her lips, mostly directed at me. I sit and take it, knowing it’s better to let her focus on me instead of turning her hatefulness on one of the others, because I know if she does that I won’t be able to stay quiet.  

Athena tells Sam how important she is at work. She talks and talks and yet says nothing at all. Bucky’s hand tightens on mine every few seconds ‘til I’ve nearly lost all feeling in my hand. I can hear him trying to control his breathing. She’s noticed his grip on me and I know it’s only a matter of time before she mentions it.

“So Artemis tell me, what is it that you’ve been doing that is _so_ important here that you’ve left our mother defenseless and alone?” She asks, nonchalantly, wrinkling her nose at Tommy who has the misfortune of being at her side.

“Athena.” There’s a low warning in Ares voice but she only rolls her eyes.

“Uncharacteristically quiet tonight Artie. Here’s your chance.” She leans away from Tommy and then glances at Bucky again, revulsion openly displayed on her features as her eyes flick over him, “Maybe you’ve been a bit _busy_?” She smirks, “Always did have a thing for soldiers didn’t you?”

“Athena,” its louder this time, Ares voice closer to the commander I know he now is.

“I’m just trying to have a conversation, Ares,” she says sweetly, resting her elbow on the table as she props her chin on her fist. “Who is this one anyways? Why hasn’t he said anything to me? Isn’t that a bit rude?” She stares Bucky down and I stroke my thumb over his hand, trying to soothe his growing distress.

“Leave him alone,” my voice is a low growl. She can say what she wants about me, but no one else, least of all Bucky.

I see Steve stiffen in the corner of my eye as he leans forward, “Ma’am, you’d do well to stop speaking.”

She looks shocked but manages to put her rotten smile back in place. “Fine. One of _you_ talk then.”

The twins simultaneously start in on falsely cheerful, distracting tales just like they did when we were children. Our mother is smiling serenely and cooing at them. _My boys, my sweet babies._ But they’re _my_ babies. I had raised them, taken care of them. My throat closes as I watch them attempt to diffuse the tension, keeping my mother’s attention away from me. Sam and Steve suddenly deep in conversation with Tommy who pushes his food around his plate, waiting for the damn thing to be over.

Bucky tries to pull me closer but I jerk away knowing Athena will just zero in on it and have something to say. She leans forward while everyone else is distracted, “Poor thing, poor, poor baby. You’re so broken you have to surround yourself with those more broken than you. Why? To feel better? Feel like you’re doing something good? So fucking noble, Artemis. Mother’s dying alone, out of her mind half the time and you’re here playing house with toy soldiers? Pathetic and disgraceful. You’ve never cared about us have you?”

She pauses and leans back, anger rolls off Bucky in thick waves and so her attention turns to him. “ _Broken_. A good word, I think, for all of you. You’re a little worse off than the rest aren’t you, soldier? Inside _and_ out, I can tell. Better watch out if you think she cares about you. She likes damaged things and as soon as they’re fixed, or,” she lets her gaze slide over him, “as soon as she realizes they _can’t_ be fixed she’ll be gone. Sometimes broken things just aren’t good enough, especially broken people. ”

I shove up from the table suddenly, startling everyone into silence, “Get out.”

“ _Excuse me_?” She asks, mouth tightening, her hand going to her chest in feigned or real shock, I can’t be bothered to care.

“GET OUT!” I shout, finally losing my temper after years and years and years of suffering at her words. I would be damned if I let her make anyone question what they meant to me, how I felt about them. I would be damned if I let her hurt Bucky, call him broken. “Get the fuck out and don’t ever come back, you bitch. How dare you? How dare you come in here and say such things to my people-,” I feel lightheaded and sick, not used to standing up to my sister.

She shoots up out of her seat, “ _Your people_? Replaced your real family have you-,”

“ _They_ are my family now. And they are not broken. They don’t need to be fixed and I’m not trying to. They are whole and I love them the way they are. Now, get out.” I seethe.

Her fingers twitch as though she’s ready to lunge for me. She smiles instead and adjusts her hair a bit, straightens her blouse, “You’re right. They aren’t broken. _You_ are. You always have been. Broken and shattered and not good enough. We might have relied on you a little but you put us through hell with your inability to function without Thomas, without _dad_. You’re still just a ruined little girl. You-,”

“No.” It’s quiet but firm and comes from Bucky. I look over in shock, my heart swelling with love. He’s shaking and panicking and white as a sheet but he continues on, “She is not broken. You are.”

Stunned silence reverberates through the room. Bucky looks ready to pass out or throw up or both. Athena’s face is red and scrunched, mouth a thin line, “How dare you-,” she starts, her eyes blazing.

“Get out Athena,” I say quietly, stepping in front of Bucky. “Just go.” There’s no way I would let her bully Bucky, not a chance in hell.  

“Mother!” She says shrilly, “Let’s go. Artemis has abandoned us for those that will one day abandon her. Soldiers,” she spits, “All you do is break people and die.”

She turns on her heal, my mother following close behind, not even looking back at her babies. My mother’s eyes are hard again as she leaves, dropping a wink just for me, letting me know she isn’t faking any of it, all of it calculated. As soon as the door closes it isn’t Bucky that throws up but me.

 

~

 

The twins make themselves a home on the floor of my living room for the week, even going so far as to make a blanket fort. They spend the rest of their time with me, watching movies and going for a bit of sightseeing and eating way too much left over Thanksgiving food. Although all three of us are rather put off by the stuff.

So, by default I haven’t seen Bucky. I made sure to call Steve and explain and have him pass on the information to Bucky, hoping that he would be okay for a few days without me. I love my twins but I miss Bucky terribly and haven’t gotten the chance to tell him how much I love him for standing by my side, for supporting me. Any time I think about it for too long, about his voice cutting through my sister’s, tears form in my eyes, my emotions a wreck still, days after it happened. My sister and mother didn’t attempt to contact us again and in fact took the first flight back to Pittsburgh the very next morning.

When I left for basic training Apollo and Ares had only been fourteen, very young and very unaware of what was happening around them. And so they also made sure to apologize for not standing up for me all those years. “It’s okay, darlings. You’re still my boys. I’d do it all again, if only for you two.”

But now they were leaving, duffle bags thrown over their shoulders, looking very grown up and very much like they were going to war, which they were. I watch them get in the same black SUV they arrived in, rain pouring down, waving and making faces until I can’t see them anymore. Then, I rush for Bucky, my emotions running high.

 

~

 

I’m sopping wet from the rain when I slide roughly into his doorway, hip smarting sharply as it bangs into the metal frame. “Buck!” He looks up from a book I gave him a few weeks ago, shock and then worry and then panic crosses his face.

“Doll? Are your-,”

I dart across the room and wrap my arms around him, practically falling into his lap and crushing the book. He wraps his arm around me, gentle and comforting. “What’s wrong Artie? Hey, c’mon look at me would ya?”

I just crush myself harder into him and twist my fingers into his shirt, “ _Thank you_.”

“God, sweetheart, what for?” he asks, running his fingers over my shoulder blades, warm and smooth and _home_.

I burst out in tears, knowing I’m doing nothing but alarming him further, emotional wreck indeed. He makes gentle shushing noises, rocking back and forth slightly. “Y-you stood up for me, babydoll. You _spoke_ up for me. And Buck, you don’t speak. Do you know what that meant to me? What it means to me?”

Bucky just shakes his head against me, “Wasn’t nothin’ heroic. I couldn’t let her say those things to you, about you.”

“But do you know what it _means_?”

He laughs and wraps his arm tightly around my middle, “Yes,” he whispers, “I know. Sam has hardly left me alone. ‘C’mon Barnes, if you can say something to that witch you can say something to me.’” I laugh quietly against him, glad to be back with him.

It’s quiet for a minute as I breathe him in, “Thank you for caring about me, Buck. I’ve never had someone so good take care of me.” Then, “Sorry I’m getting water all over you and also sorry about the book I’m sure is ruined.”

He laughs again and presses his face into my neck, “Doesn’t matter, doll. As long as I got you here.”

“Such a romantic,” I accuse.

He tenses and then relaxes, heaving a tired sigh, “Maybe, but you did crush my space book and I don’t know if I can forgive that.”

I pull back and look into his eyes, “How can I make it up to ya?”

He squeezes me tighter, face still nestled in my neck, “Stay here with me, doll. I haven’t been sleepin’ too well.”

I wrap my arms around his shoulders, tucking him against me, “Of course. Anything for you, babydoll.”

A few minutes pass and Bucky’s breathing actually starts to slow down and even out. I shake him awake with a nervous laugh, wondering just how long he’s gone without sleep. He has the usual dark circles under his eyes so it’s hard to tell. “Buck?”

“Hmmm?” he hums against my neck, igniting goosebumps across my body.

“I need to move,” I say.

“No.” He says, voice tired and gravelly, nestling further into me.

“You’re gonna sleep sittin’ up?” I ask as I shiver, my wet clothes starting to stick to my skin, cold and clammy.

“Maybe.”

“C’mon Bucky I’m freezing to death. I’ll go home and change and come back-,”

He grips me tight and opens his eyes, “Definitely not, sweetheart. You can borrow some of mine.”

I lean back and tuck some hair behind his ear, love and happiness welling up inside me. “You really do mean so much to me Buck.”

He pats my back and pushes me gently off his lap so he can sort out what clothes to let me borrow. The space book hits the floor with a dull thud, a purple-y galaxy staring up at me, “Sorry about that.”

“It’ll dry,” he picks it up and sets it open on the bedside table to dry. He takes my hand and pulls me to the cabinet in the corner. Bucky hands me sweatpants and a t-shirt and a pair of socks.

Tears well in my eyes again, “You’re the best man I’ve ever met, James Barnes.”

He looks alarmed and presses his hand to my cheek, forcing me to look into his eyes, “’Cause I gave you dry clothes? Artie? Are you okay?”

I press my hand over his, “No, just because of who you are. I know you don’t believe me but you are the kindest person I’ve ever met. Not many people would have stopped her but you did even when-when y-you don’t speak to people. I’ve just never felt so cared for and I love you for that, babydoll.”

Bucky stares at me wide eyed, tense and still. I pat his hand and take it away from my face. “I’m gonna go change.”

When I come back Bucky has laid down. He pats the space next to him and throws a blanket over me once I settle. It’s quiet as we lie back, shoulder to shoulder, and Bucky slips his hand down into mine. It’s so peaceful, the rain pattering gently against the window, the room darkened and quiet. An ease I haven't felt in days settles over me. 

“You said you love me.” I glance over at him, heart plummeting, as I try to discern whether or not he’s upset that I’d said it.

“I did.”

“You told me once that I mean the world to you.”

“Yes.”

He looks over, meeting my eyes, “Did you mean it?”

“I mean it.”

He swallows thickly and nods but doesn’t look away from my eyes. Bucky takes his hand out of mine and slides his arm under my back, pulling me toward him until we’re nearly nose to nose, lying on our sides. “Thank you.”

I press my hand over his heart, “You’re my home. I care about you so much.”

He looks guilty but doesn’t pull away. He leans forward and kisses my forehead before pressing his against mine. “You’re my home too. I know that makes me selfish but you are.”

 Something changes in the air between us then as he leans forward, eyes wide and blue and full of something that looks suspiciously like love. I swallow hard and pull away as his eyes start to drift closed. “We can’t.”

His eyes snap open, filled with panic, “I know, I know I’m not good enough for you. That I’m damaged and hopeless but-,” Bucky sounds as though he’s about to launch into a speech to convince me of his worth as though he isn’t already the sun in my sky.

I interrupt him, “You _aren’t_ babydoll. It’s just-,” guilt closes my throat, chokes off my words.

He clutches me tighter, “What?”

“I’d be taking advantage of you-,” I start but he cuts me off.

“ _What_? Why would you think that?” I stare at him, trying to reign myself in. “Don’t do that, doll, don’t try to hold back.” My hand is still over his heart where I begin rubbing slow, nervous circles. I’m just emotional…but no I always feel this way.

“You-you’re vulnerable and-,”

“And I know who I want. I know what you mean to me. That is something that I know, doll. You’ve never done anything but give to me, be kind to me, why would you trick me now? Take advantage of me?”

My heart caves in on itself and I attempt to hold back tears as I press my hand up his chest to his neck to then cradle his jaw. I close my eyes, “You don’t know anybody else. You only think you feel this way because you only know me-,”

There’s a low warning in his voice, a sort of desperation as he says, “No. Don’t tell me how I feel. I don’t care about you because you’re _here_. I care about you because you’re _you._ Warm and kind and special and good. Not many others woulda been here like this. You’re my girl, Artie. You understand me like no one else has.”

I take a minute to absorb his words, stroking my thumb over his cheek. The guilt that I’m doing something wrong is still there but it’s not as strong and fading fast as I feel him near my face with his again, my eyes still closed.

His warm breath hits my lips, dangerously close, “Can I kiss you, Artemis?”


	20. Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! I love to hear from you guys <3 thanks for reading

Artemis doesn’t say anything for a moment but Bucky waits. He would wait forever for her and if she said no he would be heartbroken but he would still have her. He won’t be the guy that does something impulsive and inadvertently pushes her away even if he desperately, desperately wants to kiss her.

“Buck…” she whispers, her voice trailing off, a soft caress of a word, her breath fanning across his parted lips. Her eyes are still closed as she decides. Bucky closes his as well not wanting to see the rejection sure to spread across her face. “Yes.” Her voice is so low and tender he isn’t sure at first if he imagined it or not.

“Yes?”  He asks, not daring to believe he heard right.

“Yes,” she says, louder this time, “Please, babydoll, kiss me.”

He opens his eyes to find hers still closed, her face tense as she waits and he deflates a little. “Doll…open your eyes. Let me see those eyes, sweetheart.”

She does so and he takes her in, her eyes wide and bright and kind. Bucky sighs out a breath and she strokes his cheek as something in her eyes fractures. “You don’t want to now?” Her voice is small and embarrassed. Artemis starts to pull away from him and god its _awful_ , that sick, fragmented feeling in his gut.

He presses closer to her, “No! I mean, God, y-yes, I want to.” He pauses, going completely red and flustered. He’s making an ass out of himself and he knows it. Artemis is going to think he’s wishy-washy and convince herself that he doesn’t know what he wants. “Yes,” he closes his eyes, “yes, I want to. I just don’t want you to do something you don’t want to. I don’t want you to do this out of pity or something. God, Artie, it might break my heart but I’ll be your friend forever and nothing more if that’s what you want as long as you keep coming around.”

He’s made a mistake, ruined everything. He’s taken something beautiful and pure and wonderful and wrecked it. He-

She drifts so close that he knows if he moves even a millimeter their lips will touch. She closes her eyes again, whispering, “Kiss me, Buck. I want you to but only if you want to.”

Bucky decides to bite the bullet, his eyes drift closed as he tilts his head forward, their lips just barely brushing but Artemis gasps softly against him. He takes this as a good sign and presses his lips firmly, fully against hers. She tastes like pumpkin pie and apple cider and Bucky melts into her. She brushes his hair behind his ear and kisses him back, her lips soft and plump and lovely. Artemis’s hand stays on his jaw, her thumb stroking the stubble there before her fingers trail down to his chest to press over his heart.

She presses forward, their noses bumping together as she giggles against him. He smiles into the kiss, on cloud fucking nine, sure he’s never felt so good before. Bucky feels her smile too before she swipes her tongue across his bottom lip, fast and teasing.

He opens his mouth for her and she darts in, humming happily as she does. When they’re both lightheaded and breathless, Bucky pulls back, nipping at her bottom lip as he does. She lets out a soft, quiet moan at the loss. “Buck,” she whispers against him, still close enough that their lips brush together as she speaks, “Babydoll.”

She pulls back and he opens his eyes to find her already admiring him. She brings both her hands up to either side of his face and swipes her thumbs underneath his eyes. “So pretty,” Artemis whispers, leaning forward to brush her mouth over his cheekbones and then the tip of his nose. “Handsome, pretty babydoll.” She kisses his forehead and then bites at his top lip before kissing the cleft in his chin.

He laughs and says, “Kiss me properly, doll.”

She shakes her head and wiggles as close to him as she can, pressing her face into his neck as she inhales deeply. Bucky feels her mouth press small, sweet kisses to his neck. He groans and runs his fingers over her spine before gripping her tight and turning onto his back so she’s on his chest. Artemis giggles against him again. He delights in the happy noise, wondering how he managed this, what he did to deserve this woman, this warm feeling in his gut.

She noses at the underside of his jaw, encouraging him to tilt his head up. She kisses her way up from the hollow at the base of his throat to his chin, nipping gently here and there, not hard enough to mark him though he sort of wishes she would. Artie’s hands go to his chest as she pulls away and looks down at him. “Is this okay?”

He laughs and pulls her down to rest against his chest, “God, yeah, this is okay.”

“Just askin’,” she grumbles against him. He wants her to kiss him again, for her to lean down and smile into his mouth, happy and content.  

“I know, doll. Thank you.”

Her fingers begin drawing small patterns into the fabric of his hoodie before they dance down his ribs, feeling out his body weight, and she says, “You been eating okay?”

"Yes, love." To anyone else it might have seemed a random question but Bucky knows her and so he knows she's feeling guilty, that she’s tricking him or taking advantage of him, and Bucky hates it. He wants her to be as happy as he is that this happened. “Doll…we don’t have to rush anything. Everything can stay the same, if you want it to.” He’s terrified she’s over thinking and regretting and pulling away from him. And Bucky does not want to be alone again. “We can take as long as you like to figure this out okay?”

Artemis doesn’t say anything for a moment as Bucky’s heart pounds against his ribs sickeningly fast. “Let’s take it slow, Buck.” He sighs out a breath starts to agree, because Bucky isn’t sure he can do anything _but_ slow, when she says, “That way if you change your mind you can-,”

“You don’t believe me do you? That I know what I’m doing?”

“Bucky…”

“Artie, I know-,”

“You’re just starting to do really well. You’re still recovering. What if I fuck it up?” She whispers into his chest. He drags his hand through her hair before rubbing his hand across her shoulder blades.

“You couldn’t, doll. You helped me get this far and I’m helpin’ you, or I think I am. I think we’ll cross that finish line together.”

And with the she bursts into tears. Bucky’s never seen her cry so much. In fact she wasn’t much of a crier usually but, here, now, with her family having wrecked her mental state and taking care of her brothers for a week and now these new, good feelings with Bucky she doesn’t know where she sits on the emotional scale. Bucky however panics, thinking he’s said something wrong. He sits up and cradles her against his chest. She clutches onto him as he whispers, “Sorry, sweetheart, sorry. I-,”

She thumps him on the chest gently and shushes him. “A good man, Bucky Barnes, one of the best. And one day you _will_ believe me.”

Artie leans away and brings her hand up to run her thumb over his bottom lip before she leans up slowly, giving him time and space to pull away from the kiss. All Bucky does is meet her halfway.

 

~

 

Steve hasn’t stopped smirking at Bucky all morning and Bucky hasn’t stopped smiling, not caring that Steve is smug.

“I told you, Buck.”

“Shut it, punk.”

Steve just continues to look self-satisfied when Artie appears in the doorway. “Hiya, Stevie!”

“Chipper today are we, Art?” She frowns at him as she sits at the table with them, setting down the paper bag filled with their late lunch.

“Aren’t I always?” She asks, then looks to Bucky who conveniently looks away just in time not to meet her eyes, a tiny smile on his face. Artemis rolls her eyes and starts dishing out wrapped sandwiches, “I take it Bucky told you then.”

“Yes. So, I can say I told you so to you too,” Steve waggles his eyebrows at her.

She pokes him in the side, “Don’t be a bitch, Steven. And slow your roll. We aren’t together or anything.”

Bucky’s heart drops into his stomach as she says this, wondering why she felt the need to point it out to Steve. Steve doesn’t seem to find anything wrong with the statement however as he laughs and unwraps his sandwich. Bucky’s suddenly not hungry and Artie frowns at him as she chews.

“You okay Buck?” She asks. He nods and smiles, not feeling like speaking. “I brought you coffee, babydoll.” She reaches for him and twines their fingers together. Artie tilts her head to the side, lopsided smile on her face.

“Thanks, doll,” he manages to say. She leans down, reaching for the canvas bag on the floor, not letting go of his hand. Artie pours coffee for all three of them, chattering at Steve about Christmas.

“-yeah so it’s such a hassle. I can’t wait for the holidays to be over. The city’ll be quieter again and I’ll be able to relax.”

 “What’s going on for Christmas Artie?”

“Just gonna be me and Tommy but, he might go home to his parents.” She shrugs, “Guess I’ll be alone. We’re-,”

“No you won’t.” Bucky interrupts, looking to Steve with a nod, “We’re your family. You said so yourself. We’ll be here.”

She smiles brokenly at him and Bucky wonders why he can’t ever manage to say the right thing. “’Course I always got my guys.” Artemis pulls her hand out of his then and starts talking about Christmas shopping. For the duration of the conversation anytime he or Steve brings up anything even remotely serious she changes the subject.

Eventually Artie darts away back to the café, stopping only to hug and kiss both of them on the cheek. Bucky tries not to feel jealous that she gave him and Steve the same treatment or nervous at her odd behavior. She’s usually the one encouraging talking about important things. Maybe today is just a bad day.

 

~

 

Artie is back in the hospital much sooner than she usually is, several hours earlier in fact and so Bucky hasn’t even left for the gym when she appears in the doorway in pajamas and a large overcoat. She looks strangely small and uncertain.

“I can’t sleep, Buck,” is all she says and Bucky decides that the gym isn’t important, her voice hesitant and miserable. But she won’t hear of him skipping it, calling it ‘self-care’ and telling him that it’s important. He hurries through the whole thing, increasingly worried about Artemis. He wonders briefly if this is how she feels about him all the time. Bucky hopes not as the anxiety is already starting to eat a hole in his stomach. 

But when he returns she’s curled up, dead asleep, on his bed. He doesn’t miss however that she’s left more than enough room for him, actually hanging off the bed a bit as though unsure if she should be there.

So, Bucky showers and doesn’t bother with the blow dryer which he hates unless it’s in Artie’s hands. It’s difficult to use one handed and loud besides. And so he doesn’t know what else to do but lie down next to her and wait. He doesn’t want to freak her out though when she’s already not herself and so he lies with his back to her and closes his eyes.

 

~

 

It’s several hours later when Bucky wakes to Artie carefully slipping her arms around him, her forehead pressed to the back of his neck, their legs already tangled together. “Sorry if I woke you.” Her fingers rub small circles into his stomach and he struggles to think straight for a moment.

He shakes his head, “What time is it?”

“Three in the morning,” she says before kissing the back of his neck. He jumps a little at the sensation and then revels in it as she does it again, mouth warm and soft as her fingers move aside his damp hair. She settles against him again, voice tired as she says, “Go to sleep, babydoll.”

He contemplates doing just that but something is off so he turns in her arms and brings his hand down to stroke her cheek. “I wanna know what’s going on with you.”

“Nothin’. I’m fine, Buck.”

“You aren’t. You’ve been different since…since-,” Bucky stops. Since he kissed her she’s been different, distant. He knows it’s only been twenty-four hours but maybe she’s regretting it. But then why would she be here? Out of pity? But Artie didn’t seem like the type of person to lead someone on…or maybe she’s been different since Thanksgiving and he hadn’t realized because he hadn’t been with her since then. They had been separated for a few days after the ordeal after all. “What’s wrong, Artie?”

She opens her eyes and looks at him then, giving a weak smile. He passes his thumb over her cheek again. “I’ve just been a little off since Athena left.”

Bucky’s stomach tightens. If she hasn’t been herself then maybe she didn’t mean it when she kissed him and-

She leans up and presses her mouth very gently and chastely to his. “Stop it,” Artie says when she pulls back, running her nose along his jaw. “Stop overthinking, darling.”

“Talk to me then.” He says, only a bit breathless. He thinks he’s fucked if that little bit of contact makes breathing hard.

“I shouldn’t and you know it.”

“I’m not that fragile-,”

“I’m not saying you are, babydoll. I’m sayin’ that I could hurt you and I already told you that’s one thing I won’t do.” Her voice is desperate as she presses closer until there isn’t any space left between them. He tilts her face up toward him, capturing her bottom lip between his, marveling that he can kiss her, that she lets him, that she wants him to.  

She pulls away after a few seconds, one hand going to the place over Bucky’s heart. “I’m sad again, Buck. She made me sad again.”

He moves his arm around her waist, grips her tight, understanding her meaning. “I’m sorry, doll.”

Artemis shakes her head, “I’ll be okay in a few days…I just-,”

“What can I do?”

“Just be here.”

“I’m here.” Bucky says, determined to be present and caring, having learned it from the best. It’s quiet for a few minutes as Bucky counts her breaths, waiting for them to slow but when they don’t he shifts her back to look into her face.

She doesn’t look at him but watches her own fingers, dragging back and forth over the material of his shirt. Bucky’s noticed that she does that a lot lately, presses her fingers, sometimes her whole hand to his heart, as if to reassure herself that he’s real. Bucky doesn’t mind, in fact he finds it oddly comforting.

“She always knew exactly what to say to get under my skin, to make me question myself,” she says softly. “She always knew how to make herself last in my mind even when she wouldn’t be there physically. Guess that’s why she’s such a good lawyer.”

“Nothing she said is true, Artie. Sweetheart, you gotta believe that,” he says, panicking a little when she pulls away from him.

“I got you babydoll. I’m not goin’ anywhere.” She shifts onto her back and stares at the ceiling, biting her lip. “Sometimes it’s just hard to believe. Especially when-,” she cuts herself off and reaches for Bucky, who pulls her half onto his chest. He presses his mouth to her hair and strokes his fingers down her spine.

“When what?”

She swallows thickly, “‘Soldiers, all you do is break people and die.’ And Goddammit ain’t it true most fucking days? At least for me. I broke Tommy and I broke my family and my father broke my mother when he died and then you…I don’t want to break you. I’ve been doin’ my best to do right again, to do good, to help people but…she’s right about that too. I’m just a selfish ass that needs to make herself feel better and I-,”

“No, you aren’t. I see how much you care about people, wholly and unconditionally. You do good and you do help people. You help me, all the time, every day. Steve too and everyone at the café. She said those things to get to you. Don’t let her win.”

She pulls back from his chest and leans down to kiss his cheek, “Thanks for sayin’ so, Buck.”

“I’m not just sayin’ so. It’s _true_.”

She smiles and shifts back a bit further, “Will you kiss me?”

“Are you trying to distract me?”

“Only a little. I’ll take your word for it, babydoll, but like you tell me, sometimes it isn’t so easy to believe,” She says, trailing her fingertips over his jaw. Bucky shivers happily.

He reaches up and takes her hand away from his face instead pressing it firmly to his chest over his heart. “One day you’ll believe me.”

She smiles and laughs as he grins up at her feeling immensely proud of himself, that he’s able to distract her, make her laugh. “I’m eating my words right now aren’t I, Barnes?”

“Only a little,” he says grin growing wider.

“Shut up.” She leans down and presses her mouth firmly against his, smiling all the way. He leans away and Artie makes a frustrated noise as she attempts to follow his lips. Bucky looks up at her, takes in her swollen lips, her eyes wide and kind. “What?”

“Just lookin’ at how beautiful my girl is.” Bucky grins wide when she blushes and hides her face in his chest. He rubs her back gently and promises softly, “We’re gonna be okay, Artie.”

She kisses his shoulder delicately, “I know.”


	21. Leaving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! :* lots of love <3

Bucky still has bad days. Days where he’ll hardly speak to me or Steve. Days he’ll refuse to look anyone in the eyes. Days where he won’t eat and even getting him to drink water is like pulling teeth. Days where he looks ready to scream if anyone touches him. They’re few and far between lately but still heartbreaking when they happen. It’s like he reverts to the person I met several months ago. Today is one such day.

It had been an odd week for us. Bucky and I getting used to being able to touch and kiss each other, trying to figure out what this thing between us is. I had also been struggling to get my depression back under control, but with Bucky there, comforting and warm, and my sister fading fast from my mind, it’s not easier but certainly more manageable.

Steve is in the room when I arrive for lunch, attempting to get Bucky to speak to him or even just to look at him. Bucky looks over when I enter the room but glances quickly away. “Hey, Buck,” I greet softly even though I know he won’t respond. Steve meets my eyes and gives me a pained smile. I pat his shoulder and sit next to him, Bucky’s eyes snapping back over to us. “Wanna eat something, babydoll?” I ask Bucky, taking my hand away from Steve’s shoulder. 

He manages a small shake of his head before he turns away again. Steve and I eat in silence, not knowing what to say and also not knowing if noise will upset him further.

There’s one thing that Bucky never talks about and that’s his memories from before he went to war. He claims to remember little to nothing and shuts down if questioned about it too much. I’ve asked Sam if Bucky ever brings in up in his sessions but Sam claims doctor-patient confidentiality and won’t say anything about it. Steve also refuses to tell me.

I have the sneaking suspicion however that Bucky remembers more than he lets on and that these particularly bad days are triggered by half-remembered memories suddenly swimming to the surface of his mind. But he refuses to speak about it and therefore no one knows how to help him or what to do. So, we wait it out and most times it only takes a day or so for him to come back to us.

This time is particularly heartbreaking as I’ve become accustomed to not only speaking with him and holding his hand but kissing him, and stroking his hair, and letting him hold me. And God did I love to kiss Bucky. He’s _good_ at it, attentive and generous and loving, his mouth always wonderfully soft and somehow _sweet_ , as though he’s been eating candy beforehand every single time.

I stay as long as I can but know I have to get back to the café so I hug Steve tight knowing the rest of today won’t be easy and give a small wave to Bucky who is looking at us again, eyes blazing. I frown at him and turn to go when, “Artie?” His voice is hoarse and small and scared.

I turn back, “Yeah, Buck?”

“You’ll come back tonight?” My heart breaks. Didn’t I every night?

“Yeah, ‘course, babydoll.” I blow a kiss to him and head out the door.

 

~

 

Bucky is waiting for me when I return later that night. I hadn’t even bothered to pretend with sleep but rushed back over as soon as everything with the café was settled for the night. Bucky stands in the middle of his room looking nervous and unhappy.

“Buck?”

“Walk with me.” His voice is quiet as he extends his hand to me. I lace my fingers with his and allow him to lead me around the hospital, meandering wherever he sees fit, clenching my fingers when there’s any sudden noise, any abrupt movement. He doesn’t say anything else and seems more tense than usual. His hand becomes so tight on mine that I start to lose feeling in it.  

He hasn’t shaved, his scruff more than a little grown out. His eyes are tired and fearful and I wish I knew how to ask why. What had happened to spook him so badly?

Bucky suddenly pulls me to a stop and guides me to one side of the hall so as not to be completely exposed. He cradles me to his chest, his breaths shaky and unstable. He can’t hold whatever’s bothering him much longer and he knows it.

“Calm down, Buck, huh? Breath with me babydoll.” I pull in a large breath and let it slowly back out. His breath hitches and he lets out a cracked, irritated noise. “It’s okay. Do it again. Okay? Again.” We repeat this several times until he’s somewhat calmed and breathing mostly normally. “Can you talk to me, babydoll?”

He nods, takes my hand and presses it over his heart, “N-not here.”

“Okay,” I rub my fingers over his chest. “Back to the room then, huh Buck?”

“No,” he clutches my hand back to his chest when I try to pull away. “The windows.”

“Windows?” I ask, brows knitting together. I try to meet his eyes but he looks away.

He makes a frustrated noise, “The-the, yeah, t-the windows. Where the sun rises.”

I frown, “The sun isn’t gonna rise for like eight more hours.” I’m not following him for once, his words confusing me, upset that he has to explain himself. 

He meets my eyes then, “But you like to see the city lights.” My heart cracks and my throat tightens as he continues, “And you can see them there without having to be right in front of the windows. You can be safe there and-,” his breathing is starting to become uneven again.

“Okay, hon, alright.” I loop my arm though his as we make the trek to the wall of windows. We sit in the same seats as last time and I take the opportunity to look at the lights and the wonder and splendor of New York City. “Me and Tommy are gonna go see that giant Christmas tree like a couple of tourists. I wish you could come with us.” I say in an attempt to distract him as I smile at him.

“Steve?”

“Haven’t asked Stevie yet. But maybe.” He glances over at me and takes my hand.

“He hasn’t told you then?”

“Told me what?”

He brings my hand to press over his heart and I wonder a little about how that’s so quickly become our thing. He keeps his hand over mine, holding it there. “They’re releasing me.”

“ _What_? When?” Its great news but also terrifying.

“Not ‘til after New Year’s. But-I don’t-I think it’s too soon. I don’t feel ready but I haven’t got much of a choice. I’ll still be here nearly every day for therapy and other things but-,” he shakes his head. “It’s already hard to be without you and I-I-Steve’s apartment is so far away. He takes the subway. How am I supposed to take the subway?”

I stroke my fingers over his chest, “Can I sit with you, baby?”

He nods and allows me to sit on his lap as I wrap my arms tightly around his shoulders. He buries his face in my neck, exhaling sharply, and I feel a bit of wetness there. “They told me this morning and it’s some new doctor that did and he didn’t bother to ask Steve how I was or tell Steve first and let him pass on the information and-and I had just woken up from a nightmare. Steve’s my buffer y’know? For that bad days.”

I hold him gently, running my fingers through his hair, soft, silky stands falling through my fingers.

“I know he is. Do you wanna talk about it? Tell me about it?”

He pulls back and looks into my eyes, red rimmed and swollen, “I miss you, Artie.”

This injects no small amount of alarm into my veins as I put each of my hands on either side of his face, “Bucky? I’m right here. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know you’re here, sweetheart. I miss you anyways. I miss kissing you and touching you and taking to you when I’m like this but sometimes I just can’t make myself.” He leans his forehead against mine as I let go of his face. I push one hand very carefully under the collar of his hoodie to rest my hand against his chest without any barriers. His skin is warm and soft but I can feel a few raised lines of scars. He jumps but then settles, letting me keep my hand there. “I want to tell you.”

“Then tell me. I’m here.”

It’s quiet for a long time as I wait for Bucky to collect his courage. I keep one hand inside his shirt, my other rubs circles into his tense back. I nose gently at his neck until he tilts his head to one side and allows me to press comforting kisses there to then trail to his jaw.

“They took you away from me. No one could find you and they wouldn’t let me look for you. Then, they did find you and you were-,” he stops. “I won’t say it. It feels like I’m beggin’ it to happen if I do.” I know he’s leaving out a lot of details but I can’t find it in myself to ask him to say more. “Then the doctor comes in and I’m still sweatin’ and pantin’ and reeling from the dream, not knowing if it was real or not. And he tells me they are taking you away from me in a way.”

“I ain’t goin’ anywhere, Bucky.”

“But _I_ am.”

I clutch him tighter and skim my lips along his cheek, finding small delight in the shiver it induces. “Not far and not for at least a couple more weeks. And you’ll be here nearly every day and I can always come to Brooklyn, babydoll. No one can take me away from you.”

He sighs and then huffs out a laugh, “I’m sorry I’m hell on you, sweetheart.” He sounds better though, reassured.

I laugh and bring both my hands up to stroke his hair back from his face, “You _are_ hell on me, Buchanan. But I like you anyways.”

“Just like me, huh?” he asks, smirk on his face.

I tug on a bit of his hair, “Eh. Only a little.”

He leans in suddenly and kisses me, our teeth clacking together before he repositions and does a better job of it as I laugh. “Quit laughin’ at me doll,” he mumbles against me but I can feel his smile.

“I’ll quit laughin’ when you stop being bad at kissing.”

“You think I’m a bad kisser?” he pouts at me, “I’m hurt Artie.”

“I make up for it by being an excellent kisser,” I say, leaning down as if to kiss him but ducking at the last second to lick his cheek instead. I pull away and laugh at his completely outraged expression.

“Did you just _lick_ me?” I nuzzle at his neck and hum quietly as he cradles me to his chest despite his incredulousness at the fact that I’d licked him.

“You liked it.”

“I like you.”

“I couldn’t tell. Is that why you keep kissing me?”

“Is that why you licked _me_?

In response I lick his neck and delight in the frustrated moan it induces. 

 

~

 

“Cheater!”

Bucky stays silent but waggles his eyebrows at me. Steve and Sam burst out laughing as Tommy throws his cards down, cursing. “Goddammit Barnes.”

Bucky, as it turns out, has the best poker face on the planet and is kicking every ones asses at cards. He smirks and rakes in the small pile of money he just won. “What are you even gonna do with that money man? It’s not like you use it.” Bucky only smiles and passes it to me, silently goading Tommy on. “You piece of shit.” Bucky only nods back as if to say, _you too_.

Tommy turns to me, “You’ll give me half right? You’re poor, defenseless best friend? Bein’ hustled here Artie.”

I look at Tommy and give him a truly mournful look, “But my best guy gave it to me so I’m sorta at a crossroads on this one.”  

Tommy grouses again, pouring more coffee for everyone. I don’t miss Bucky’s proud look in my direction, the words ‘my best guy’ hanging in the air between us.

“I think they’re teaming up on us!” Sam accuses, pointing at me and then Bucky before letting his own cards slip out of his hands as he sighs in frustration.

I lean close to Bucky and kiss his cheek, “Modern day Bonnie and Clyde, huh babydoll?”

Bucky nods and kisses me fully on the mouth as Sam and Tommy make gagging noises, “Could you two cut it out? God, you’re worse than Steve and Peggy.”

“We are not like that!” Steve says, mortified, and Bucky looks proud of himself.  

“Whatever you gotta tell yourself man.” Tommy has that shit eating grin on his face again as he leans his chair back on two legs.      

“You guys hungry?” I ask, standing from the table to stand behind Bucky, my arms resting on the back on his chair. He leans back into me as I say, “I can order pizza? Pepperoni okay?” everyone nods assent as Steve shouts after me to let him pay for it. Bucky grumbles in annoyance at Steve as I walk to the kitchen to retrieve my phone.

When I get back from ordering the pizza the boys are still huddled around the table, furiously discussing something as Bucky nods along. “What do you think, Art?”

“Think about what?” I wrap my arms around Bucky’s shoulders and lean my head against his, Bucky making a noise akin to a cat’s purr.

“About Bucky workin’ here?”

I pause, “We don’t have the money to-,”

Tommy shakes his head, “Won’t have to pay him if he’s volunteering.”

I take my arms from around Bucky’s shoulders and sit down, “Are you volunteering?” He nods at me, something like confusion and hurt in his eyes. He thinks I don’t want him here. That that’s why I hesitated.

“I think it’s a great idea,” I say, making sure to look him in the eyes. “If ya wanna help out here then I think ya should.” He brightens a little at my words, understanding me completely. “What do you think, Sam? Is this something good to try or-,”

“I think it’s a great idea. Assimilation into civilian society can be hard but it’s important.” He nods, “I think it would be really good.”

“Yeah, then maybe we can fire Connor. Know how to roast, Bucky?” Tommy says, rubbing his hands together, on a completely different train of thought. Tommy’s nearly always half between amazement and annoyance at Connor.

Bucky looks scandalized and shakes his head. I look over and catch Steve watching us, a small smile on his face. “Steve?”

He glances at me, growing suddenly shy, “You’re always somehow right.”

“I know,” I say cheekily, jabbing him in the side, “What about this time?”

“You guys are family. We’re a family.”

It’s silent for a second as we all sit and stare around at each other. Tears well in my eyes as Tommy huffs out an annoyed breath. “You people are the sappiest bastards I’ve ever met.” But he too is smiling.         

 

~

 

Later that night I sit in Bucky’s room with a rare sight before me. Bucky’s fallen asleep, his head pillowed in my lap as he huffs out gentle breaths. Things have been getting better and better for him and I can only hope that the pattern will continue. I thread my fingers through his hair and watch him before smiling and rubbing his shoulder, paying careful attention to his bad one. He gives a small groan in sleep but leans into the touch. “Doll,” he huffs out on a small breath, nose scrunching adorably. He yawns then and blinks awake, “Hey,” he smiles. “Sleep with me, Artie.” He reaches up and strokes his thumb under each of my eyes, “You need it. I sleep better anyways.”

“Such a gentleman,” I whisper as I scrunch down the bed until he wraps his arm around me and buries his face in my shoulder.

“I am.”

“Sure thing, Buck.”

He laughs against me, “You’ll stay either way.”

I turn slightly and kiss his cheek, “I will.”

He nestles down behind me as I think about how lucky I am. But something in my guts twists and I know it can’t last.

   


	22. Stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So, I've been off from school this week and have had some time to write so I'm posting again lol. This is another chapter with some intense bits so look out for that. <3 I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Artemis is nervously smoothing creases out of Bucky’s jacket, her hands shaking just a bit. She takes a deep breath and stills her anxious hands, pressing them firmly into his waist. Bucky smiles at her.

“It’s gonna be okay, doll.”

“I know…I just-this was my idea so if-,”

“Nothing bad will happen.” She looks up at Bucky and tucks some stray hair behind his ear. “You can stay here Artie and I’ll just go with Steve-,”

“No.”

In the week following the announcement that Bucky is to be released Artemis, Steve, and Bucky with the help of Sam, Sharon, and Peggy have been planning and working out the logistics of Bucky’s mingling with society again. Bucky is determined not to be a burden and is also determined not to relapse as soon as they release him. So, working in the café will be helpful and Artie will be there, someone who understands him nearly completely. But today Artemis suggested a walk around the block in the cold, blustery December air. It’s also very open and crowded and noisy where anything can happen but Bucky is determined to do it now that it’s been proposed. He knows he could be triggered but he figures he’s got to start somewhere.

He cups his hand around Artemis’s neck now and leans down to press a soft kiss to her mouth. She grabs a fistful of his shirt and pulls him closer, arms winding around his neck. His hand moves down to her hip and then roves over the curve of her ass. She yelps and laughs when he grabs her ass and when she tries to break away from the kiss he follows her lips, smiling all the way.

A pointed cough from the doorway has them springing apart. Steve stands there, a falsely stern look on his face. Artemis laughs at him and pulls Bucky back into her side, her warmth grounding him.

“What? Want me to kiss you too?” Artie asks, teasing Steve, as Bucky wraps his arm around her, glowering at Steve.

Steve bursts out laughing, “Honestly, Bucky!”

Artemis looks up at Bucky and stage whispers, “I bet he’s a shit kisser anyways. Poor Peggy.”

Bucky smiles, “Yeah, I think so too.” His smile is tight however and Artemis frowns at him. Bucky glances away, suddenly reminded of how undeserving he is of her attentions. Maybe that’s why they aren’t technically together yet. It isn’t like he can take her on a date, not yet anyways. He can’t buy her things or take her places or show her off. He can’t do any of the things for her that he knows she deserves. He’s terrified that she’ll realize she deserves better, more.

“Let’s get a move on then, Buck,” she says, tugging on his arm. She’s smiling wide and big at him, her eyes sparkling but worried.

Steve is still in the doorway but Bucky doesn’t care as he leans down and kisses her again. He hears Steve cough and walk away and Bucky smiles as Artie laughs. She pulls away and rests her forehead against his, “Did you have to make him uncomfortable like that?”

“Yes,” he mumbles. Bucky will kiss her and hold her as much as she allows, no matter who is present. He isn’t ashamed. She’s his and so he’ll make that known. While he has her everyone will know, that is until she realizes she’s too good for him and goes. Which will happen, he’s already resigned himself to that, because things this good simply don’t happen to him.

He bends to kiss her again and marvels that she leans up to meet him.

 

~

 

Outside on the street Bucky takes a moment to adjust. It’s cold of course and Bucky hates the cold. The cold is bad. The cold means needles and harsh hands and _pain_ and-

“Bucky?”

“Here.” He grinds out. Artie steps closer and then into his line of vision, forcing him to look at her. She reaches up and adjusts the scarf so it covers his mouth and nose and then tugs the cap on his head down. It’s better, warmer. And he could cry for how well she knows him, how much she understands him.

“At any time we can stop, okay?”

He nods as Artie loops her arm through his and Steve stays close to his other side. They begin their trek around the block. In addition to the cold it’s also very loud. Cars honk and people talk and shout and tires grind on bits of loose gravel and children scream and the wind shakes the trees and birds caw and chirp and-and-and-

“Buck.” He looks over at Steve. “You okay?”

He nods, “I’m fine.” Bucky reminds himself that this is just like the café only a little bigger. As long as he doesn’t focus on any one thing for too long he should be fine. He also has Steve, large and very warm on one side and Artie, smaller but just as fierce on the other, her fingers threaded firmly through his, not letting go, not going anywhere. They wouldn’t let anything happen to him and he wouldn’t let anything happen to them.

They don’t speak and Bucky’s glad for it, needing all his senses to watch for possible threats, to assess his surroundings. Eventually they make it around the block, back to the main entrance of the hospital. They start toward the door but Bucky tugs Artie in the other direction. Steve and Artie stop, a question in their eyes. “Again,” he demands. And of course, they comply.

The second lap is easier, familiar. Bucky knows what to expect and therefore adjusts accordingly. But of course it’s New York and so the second go around the building isn’t exactly the same but then again he didn’t expect it to be. After the third lap however he’s tense and very cold and so he decides not to push it. Artie and Steve tell Bucky how proud they are. Bucky is drained though, mentally and emotionally, but agrees nonetheless that yes, he has done well. He and Artie head up to his room while Steve goes to retrieve Peggy whom he’s taking on a date.

He’s still shivering when they get to his room and Artie insists a hot shower will help him. “I’ll be here babydoll,” she reassures him when he doesn’t immediately let go of her.

“I know, doll.” He kisses her on the cheek and moves away from her.

 

~

 

An hour later Bucky is situated comfortably in Artie’s lap as she reclines on the bed. He lies between her legs, head pillowed on one of her thighs, his arm wrapped around her leg, massaging her calf. Her fingers run through his hair, soothing him. He’s not stopped shaking even after the hot shower. Her fingers drag over his shoulders and down his spine. “It’s okay Buck.”

“I’m not…I’m okay. I’m just cold.”

“Still? Are you anxious?”

“Not now,” he says, only lying a little. “Just cold.” She pulls the blanket further up around him, tucking it securely.

“Okay, alright, I see how it’s gonna be,” she accuses, immediately identifying the white lie. He hums in response. She presses her hands into his hair, massaging his scalp. “Poor little James needs a nap.”

He nuzzles her thigh, “I need _you_.”

“I need you too.” Her hands stroke through his hair again. “You did so good today. And Peggy showed me your chart even though she really isn’t supposed to and all this food is really paying off, I gotta say. You’re about a normal weight now, hon. You’ve been doin’ so good.” She leans down over him and presses her mouth to his head, “Sleep now.” Her hands go back to his shoulders, working out the kinks in his muscles, the strain from being in the street.

“Nap with me doll.” He demands, not caring that he sounds needy and desperate.

“Alright, hon, get off me for a second.” He rolls off her and waits for her to scoot down the bed before he pulls her half onto his chest, kissing her lips gently before she lays her head down.

Artemis nuzzles into his chest, her body a warm, easy weight on his, present and sweet. Bucky’s throat suddenly closes as he wraps his arm around her. He doesn’t deserve her, doesn’t deserve happiness, but yet here she is and here he is. Bucky kisses her hair and marvels at the happy, content noise that escapes her as he does. He would have to do everything to earn it, earn this warm embrace and these blissful noises.

“Why do you care about me?” God, he could kick himself.

She pulls away and looks down at him, her eyes sad and concerned. “Why do you gotta ask me these kinda things?”

He shrugs and looks away from her eyes. Artie darts forward then and melds their lips together, nipping gently until Bucky gives a low moan and pulls away, more than a little light headed. “I ask ‘cause I gotta know, doll.” Although, he thinks, he could have maybe asked a little differently.

She leans forward and kisses, small, tiny, loving kisses, against the corners of his mouth, his upper lip, his chin and cheeks. “’Cause I like you a whole lot. Because you’re sweet and protective and lovable and brave and kind and you care about me too so it’s mostly for convenience.” She grins at that last bit and Bucky can’t help but smile too.

He pulls her close trying not to think about the cold still spread on his body, or the needles and the pain that came with it. Artemis sighs, bringing Bucky out of his thoughts. “What is it, doll?”

“You wanna tell me what made you ask me that?” He hesitates and Artie nestles further into his shoulder, “You don’t gotta, babydoll.”

“Not…not yet.” Silence settles between them, heavy and sweet and warm. The blankets combined with Artemis body heat have Bucky warming up very quickly. Artie starts to drift off, her face still pressed against Bucky’s shoulder as her breathing slows. But Bucky needs to ask her something else, make sure of something and so he leans over and kisses her slowly back awake.

“Bucky…” she sighs when he pulls away. “I thought you wanted to nap-,”

“Wanna ask you somethin’, sweetheart.” He skims his lips along her hairline.

“Better make it quick Buchanan I got-,”

“You’re mine right?” He cringes as soon as the words leave him mouth. What a stupid and ambiguous way to ask such an important question.

She pulls back to look at him but Bucky refuses to meet her eyes, “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” What did he mean? Is she his girl? Is she exclusively his? Are they a couple? “I mean, you-you’re, we’re together right?”

“Buck, what’s this about?” She kisses his chin and then his mouth, biting gently. “’Course I’m yours babydoll.” Her lips brush his as she speaks, “We’re together.”

“I never asked you.”

“Then ask me.” Bucky suddenly can’t however, guilt settling in his stomach, hard and icy. But then her fingers trail under his shirt to press against his skin, her fingers ghosting over the scars there, not flinching away, never flinching away. Nothing is ever too much for her, too bad, or too gory. She’s seen all his flaws and still she doesn’t pull away. So, he says, “Artemis will you be my girl?”

“Only if you’ll be my guy.”

“Yes.”

“Then yes, babydoll. I’m yours. Only yours.”

“Only mine,” he breathes, hardly daring to believe it. “And I’ll always be yours.” He kisses her then soft and sweet. She cups his face between her hands and pulls away, lips swollen and pink. He reaches out and runs his thumb along her bottom lip, marveling at the softness. “Always, doll, I promise.”

Artemis settles again, “Sleep now, Buck.” It’s warm and calm and safe so he does.

 

~

 

Saturday morning Bucky finds himself in the back of the café as Artie goes over how to make certain pastries and treats and coffee specials. Bucky thinks he’ll never be able to remember all of this but does his best to follow along.

“-so, you’ll have to be out at the counter when we open but either me or Tommy will be there to deflect people that might try and talk to ya okay? And if it ever gets to be too much just come back here and take a breather. Got it?”

Bucky nods, “Yes, ma’am.” He thinks it won’t be so bad, being released. He’ll get to spend more time with Artie. He’ll have more freedom. And of course he has all the support in the world. It might be an adjustment at first, a little hard, but he’s certainly survived worse. He watches Artie flit around the kitchen with unceasing energy, fast and light. She hums as she works, her voice soft and low and sweet. She’s nimble and graceful and seemingly completely at ease as she works. And Bucky is struck hard with the weight of love he feels for this woman, heavy and happy and good. He reaches out and catches her as she flies by.

The bag of flour she carries tumbles out of her hands, “Buck-!” Bucky presses his mouth firmly to hers, effectively cutting her off and turning her reprimand into a hum of pleasure. She pulls away after a few seconds, laughing and smiling, and Bucky is sure it’s the best sound in the world, the best feeling to have been graced with the joyful noise. Artemis’s arms loop around his neck and pull him close, “Babydoll…” she hums into the crook of his neck.

Bucky jumps at the name and curses himself for it as she laughs. Artemis kisses his neck and pulls away, “What was that for, hon?”

“I don’t deserve you. But you’re here anyways.” He murmurs softly as he pulls her back to him.

“Buck…people aren’t deserved or earned. I care about you and you’re just gonna have to deal with it. You don’t have to earn love, it’s just somethin’ that is. The only thing I can hope for is that you feel the same way.” She kisses the hinge of his jaw as her fingers massage soothing patterns into his shoulders.  

He clutches her tighter, “Yes.”

“Okay,” she laughs and pulls away, stoking some hair behind his ear. “We’re opening soon so we gotta get out front okay?”

“Okay.” Bucky kisses her one more time before they do, just because he can.

 

~ 

 

The day goes by fast and by the end of it Bucky’s dead tired. He wonders how on Earth Artemis does it every day and then comes to visit him each night. She’s still bubbly and full of energy, poking fun at Tommy as they clean up together with a grace that suggests years of practice and working together. Bucky does his best to help them but feels more in the way than anything.

Artemis smiles at him every once in a while, warm and sweet. And when they’re finally done with clean up and Artemis comes back downstairs from helping Tommy up the steps she asks him if he’d like to try another walk. He’s been on several since the first one several days ago, each time only able to stomach three laps. But now it’s dark out and Bucky doesn’t much care for the dark, or the cold, or the pain and-

“Hey,” a warm hand caresses his cheek. He leans into the gentle touch, glad for it. “We don’t gotta. You can always tell me no.” But he suddenly feels sick, something not quite right.

He nods and wraps his arm around her waist. “Not at night, doll,” he whispers, unable to stomach the thought of not being able to protect Artemis out on the street. He feels lightheaded and a bit dizzy. ‘No’ is not a word he’s allowed. He’s tired and his head hurts just thinking about the word ‘no’. _No_ , whispers a voice in his head, painfully loud and authoritative.

“Okay, babydoll, it was just a suggestion.” She presses a kiss to his cheek and tangles her fingers in the hair at the back of his neck, “Never do anything you don’t want to, okay?”

He hums against her, moving to bury his face in her neck, even as the room continues to spin, “Okay.” Bucky places kisses on her neck as she tilts her head back to accommodate him, trying to think of anything else, trying to distract himself from the times he couldn’t say no. Bucky bites at her pulse point, reveling in the moan it induces, before sealing his lips over the sensitive spot and sucking. _No_ , whispers the voice. She says something but he can’t hear her. He knows he shouldn’t kiss her when he feels this way but he needs to feel whole, needs this fractured, sick feeling to go _away_ \- Pain, pleasure, is he hurting her, he can’t tell, does she love him, does she pity him, cold, warm, here, there, love, hate-

 

_“Eat. Or we can make you. It’s this or a feeding tube, soldier.”_

_Bucky had stopped eating a week ago, thinking maybe he could starve himself to death since they were taking so damn long to kill him. He thought it would work, really he did, but apparently they paid him more attention than he thought._

_So, now he’s sitting at a metal table on a metal chair with guards standing around him, guns in their hands, pointing at him. “Eat!” The command comes louder this time, angrier._

_There’s suddenly a sharp pain in his neck and then his shoulder as someone lands quick hits on him. A hand clamps around his neck and shoves hard, “Eat.” The voice is menacing, a force that knows it’s a force and a force that can win. Bucky’s jabbed in the spine. “You were spineless, cowardly. You let them die and you let us take you. You deserve this cold. You deserve this pain. And you deserve the torture of living, of breathing. You will not meet the warm embrace of death so easily. So eat your fucking food and survive, little soldier. We are not yet done with you.”_

_A fist slams into the table making the tray bounce and rattle._

_Bucky picks up a piece of fruit, not quite knowing what else to do. Because they are right after all. And there is no such thing as no-_

 

“Bucky!” She gasps and pulls away from him, eyes wide and fearful. Her lips are swollen, her fingers trailing up to touch them gently.

“Artemis-,”

She shakes her head and grabs her coat from the back of a chair, her hands trembling, “C’mon, I’ll take you back over-,”

“Artemis-,”

“No!” Silence echoes for a moment, “No,” it’s softer this time. His heart is in his throat, hands shaking as she pulls the door open and beckons him to follow her, not allowing him any closer than a few feet. They cross the street and navigate the hospital halls together in silence. She stops outside his door and looks up at him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Buck.”

“Artemis, please-,” He reaches for her and she takes a step back.

“I know, babydoll, I know. You just scared me.” She doesn’t meet his eyes however as she turns on her heal and makes her way back down the hall. Bucky’s gut clenches painfully as he closes his eyes, not even completely sure what happened.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


	23. Something Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Thanksgiving and I've been trying to avoid my family's political opinions/lectures and so here's another chapter. Would love to hear your thoughts. <3 thanks for reading.

Artemis does come back the next day at lunch much to Bucky’s surprise. She smiles and talks to Steve as normal and says hello to Bucky but doesn’t touch him and carefully doesn’t meet his eyes. He wants to ask her what happened. He can’t remember, can only recall the memory that had suddenly been thrust upon him. He thinks maybe they overdid it, with going out into the cold so often that week and working all day in the café. He thought he was fine, that he could handle the stress. But clearly he hadn’t been. He hadn’t slept all night and his chest hadn’t stopped hurting. Breathing had become a chore and his mind a minefield of memories.

It’s entirely his fault and he knows it. He had had a death grip on her, had bruised her wrist a little even though she had tried to hide it. Bucky had trapped her, someone who is deathly afraid of being trapped. So, he didn’t dare say anything to Steve whom would probably march over to the café as soon as he caught wind of what happened. Bucky doesn’t need Steve fixing all his problems and so he hasn’t said anything to his friend.

She won’t look at him however and her voice is falsely cheerful, which Steve doesn’t seem to realize. Bucky can’t make himself focus on what they’re saying, nausea rising in his throat as he thinks about how she must have felt, that he had made he feel the same way a collapsed building had. And the worst part is that this isn’t even the first time. He doesn’t know what to do or say to make things better. Doesn’t even really know what the fuck happened. Bucky isn’t sure if something worse than just his grabbing her had happened.

The buzzing in his ears grows and grows, becomes almost painful before it snaps and he says, “Artemis!” He didn’t mean to shout but he did and now Steve and Artemis look up, shock on their faces. Bucky clenches his teeth and closes his eyes.

“Bucky?” Steve asks, “What’s-,”

He ignores Steve and looks to Artemis as he forces his hand out of the fist its curled in. “Artie, please talk to me doll. I can’t stand it. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I-,” She moves over to him and wraps her arms around him as she stands in front of him. He clutches onto her, tears stinging his eyes.

“Stevie can you give us a minute?” He hears Steve murmur something in response and then the door close gently. Her hands go to either side of his face, “Hey? Buck?” Artie’s thumbs stroke his cheeks, “Babydoll?”

“What happened, Artie?”

“Hey, hey, hey,” she coos, fingers smoothing through his hair. “You just scared me a little.”

“I don’t know what I did, doll,” he says, finally meeting her eyes.

“You didn’t do anything. You stopped kissing me and you…you were grabbing me kinda hard and you didn’t seem like you could hear me and it just freaked me out.” He presses his face into her stomach as her hands continue to brush through his hair, “I’m sorry I ran out on you last night babydoll. Huh? We’re fine. I’m fine.”

“You wouldn’t talk to me.”

“I was upset,” she tries soothing him.

Bucky’s heart jumps in his chest knowing that he made her feel that way, “I know, I know.” He exhales sharply, “Did I hurt you?”

“No, babydoll, no,” she presses her body into his, snuggling as close as she can in their current position. “C’mon, hon, can I sit down? I’m not mad. I was just frightened.” Bucky pulls her down onto his lap, “I’m sorry babydoll. I’m sorry, I shoulda talked to you. Huh? Look at me?”

He looks up at her as she cradles his jaw. “Doll…” She leans down and presses her lips to his, fingers trailing over his collarbones and into his shirt. Bucky’s hand goes to her hip and under her shirt, rubbing along the soft skin of her lower back. She practically purrs and arches into his touch. He brings his hand around to drag over her stomach as she shivers in his grasp. Artemis nips at his lower lip before pulling away. “If I hurt you…”

“You didn’t,” she says fiercely. Her face falls then, “I didn’t even ask you what happened.”

“Artie…”

“Bucky, no, I’m-,”

“Doll, we can’t do this.” Her expression nearly breaks Bucky’s heart.

“Oh…okay. I, um, sorry-,” she starts to move away from him and Bucky clutches at her waist.

“Doll, no, God no, that’s not what I meant.” His heart beats against his ribs, painful and loud. “We can’t blame ourselves, okay? It’s something that happens and I know you shouldn’t have to deal with it and if you don’t want to I understand. We have to talk about it, okay? I know you were scared but we have to talk and you have to let me know when-,”

She cuts him off with a bruising kiss, her tongue darting into his mouth. Bucky groans when she pulls away from him, “Babydoll…” her lips brush against his and he jolts in his seat.

“Fuck, Artemis, you’re killin’ me here, sweetheart.” He presses his nose against the underside of her jaw to kiss her there, gentle, loving kisses, slowing their pace. “Just talk to me next time. I was so worried that I- that you-,”

She kisses his forehead and threads her fingers through his hair, “Tell me what happened.”

 

~

 

Artemis sits with Bucky, carefully holding his hand, her other arm slung around his shoulders. “It wasn’t much but it-I-I guess it, y’know, uh-,”

“I know. I’m sorry, Bucky.” She squeezes his hand, “I shoulda been there for you.” He takes his hand out of hers and puts a finger under her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. Bucky leans forward and captures her lips in a gentle kiss, trailing along her jaw before laying a sweet kiss to the hinge of her jaw.

“You are now. And I can’t know what it must have been like for you to feel trapped.”

“How did you-,”

“I know _you_ , Artemis.” He pauses, brings her hand to his chest, “I know you and I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what that must’ve felt like to you. God, this is the second time too.” He shakes his head.

“Stop it, Buck,” she says gently, “Stop it.” Artemis pauses and looks around the room, blinking back tears. God maybe she was wrong, maybe they shouldn’t do this. They were both still such messes. But weren’t they better together or is she just telling herself that to justify the relationship? “Bucky…maybe, maybe this isn’t right. Maybe we-we shouldn’t-,”

“Artie?” His voice is shaky and fearful, brows pulling together. “You-,”

“No! No, I don’t want to. I just want-,” her voice breaks. “I want you to do good and I don’t-so far we-I-,”

Bucky kisses her again, “Calm down, Artie.” He pulls her to him, wraps his arm securely around her. “We do better together and we both know it. Okay? We are.”

“We are. We are.” She sniffles gently, “Aren’t we?”

“Yes,” he says, “I promise we are. Even though this is new…I think you’ve been mine a lot longer and…and I know I’ve done better since I started feeling that way.”

“Okay, babydoll, okay,” she whispers, but Bucky notices she doesn’t sound convinced.  


	24. Spaces

Bucky sits at the table in his room, Steve’s laptop before him and Steve himself sitting next to him. He’s been trying to do online Christmas shopping, mostly for Artemis who had let slip that she’s getting him something. Bucky had felt something close panic when she said this realizing that he couldn’t get her anything until Steve had introduced him to the world of online shopping. So, now he’s been browsing for hours and is still no closer to finding something adequate to give her.

Steve is starting to lose patience with him, “Bucky, honestly, whatever you get her she’s going to love.”

“It has to be something perfect, Steve.” Bucky says, continuing to scroll through a website. Steve rolls his eyes and heaves a sigh. Bucky turns to Steve with a glare, “You can go visit Peggy. I think I got this covered.”

Steve stands as Artemis appears in the doorway. Bucky slams the laptop closed and Steve glares at him as Artie looks confused. “You guys okay?”

“Yeah!” Bucky says a little too quickly.

Steve rolls his eyes again and makes his way out of the room as he stage whispers, “ _Christmas shopping._ ”

Artie laughs and walks over to wrap her arms around Bucky from behind, one hand slipping inside his shirt. He’s so glad for it as things have been strained between them lately since Bucky was triggered the other day. She kisses his cheek, “You don’t have to get me anything, babydoll.” She presses her nose into his neck and then mouths open kisses down his throat, hot and wet.

He groans, “God, doll, you gotta stop.”

She nips at his earlobe, “What if this is my Christmas present to you?”

“It’s not Christmas yet.” He says tightly. She laughs and pulls away and Bucky could kick himself.

“Guess I know what _not_ to get you now,” she jokes as she sits down across from him.

He shoots up straight in his seat, “No, that’s-,” But she’s already laughing again.

“Really though Buck, you don’t have to get me anything.” She smiles at him as Bucky shifts in his seat trying to alleviate some of the sudden tightness in his pants, glad that Artie is across from him instead of beside him.

“I do though, sweetheart.” He says, “You do so much for me and…I dunno…it’s important to me. It’s important that I get it right.” Bucky looks down, not quite able to meet her eyes. It’s especially important after what happened the other day.

Bucky hasn’t forgiven himself and it seems neither has Artie as her smile becomes strained. “Buck…” she whispers, her voice trailing off as she stands and crosses her arms, tension suddenly thick in the room. “Maybe we were wrong.” She shrugs and goes to the window, looking out to the street, “Maybe we just gotta admit that.”

“Wrong about what Artemis?” he asks, heart in his throat.

She bites her lip and swipes at her eyes as she turns back to him, “About this,” she gestures between the two of them, “I can’t help but feel like maybe-maybe we’re wrong.”

“Wrong?” he asks, anger bubbling up in him for the first time in a while at Artie. “ _Wrong_?” He asks, incredulous.

“Yes! Maybe it’s wrong!” Her eyes are hurt as she turns away from him, rubbing her arms.

“Artemis, look at me.” She refuses to turn however, sniffling quietly. “ _Artemis_!”

She flinches and turns, fear in her eyes, “What?” she hisses. “What do you want? What do you want me to say? That this is right, good? You’ve been worse off since-,”

“Since the other day? Goddammit Artemis that happens all the fucking time and you know it! It’s got nothing to do with _us_ so unless-,” His voice had continued to rise into a shout. He only notices now as Artie cowers away from him, eyes clenched shut, jaw tight. “Doll,” he whispers now, “I’m sorry-,”

“It’s okay. I’m used to it.” She says as her voice breaks and his heart crumbles, “I thought we were both ready for this, obviously I was wrong.”

“No, no, no, no,” he stands and moves to stand in front of her, “God, no, sweetheart, you weren’t. You aren’t. We just-we just ain’t hearing each other for once. Please talk to me, doll-,”

She shakes her head and reaches out to him, pressing a hand to his cheek, “I’m gonna go talk to Sam, okay? I’ll be back later.” But he has a sinking feeling that she won’t be.

He closes his eyes and tries to breathe deeply. He can’t lose her. He won’t. “No, please talk to me, Artie. Please. I’m begging you here, doll.”

“I’ll be back later, Barnes.” Her voice is stiff and hard as she pulls harshly away from him. She doesn’t look back as she leaves the room.

 

~

 

“Thanks for seeing me Sam.”

“Anything for you, Artemis,” Sam says, leaning back in his chair. His office is spare and clean, that of someone clearly from a military background. Everything neat and tidy. Everything in its place. “I hope you don’t mind if I eat lunch while we-,”

She waves him off, “Please,” she smiles, but it’s tense and wobbles horribly.

He leans forward, “Now where has Artemis gone?”

She shakes her head and leans it into her hands as she braces her elbows on her knees. “I don’t know.” She takes a shaky breath, “I don’t know, Sam. I’m so…so, _so_ guilty. All the time. And Bucky…he’s-I’m afraid he’s becoming too reliant on me. What if I can’t always be there? What happens when I’m not okay? I thought I was better. I thought we both were but…” She swallows harshly and shakes her head again.

“You and Barnes have both made incredible progress in a short amount of time. I think that’s mostly because you’ve _had_ each other. You understand each other, sometimes eerily so. Because of your guilty conscience though…I think you’ve convinced yourself the dynamic between the two of you has changed and it hasn’t. You think that his episode the other day was your fault and it isn’t.” Sam makes sure that he looks into her eyes as he says, “And you need to give Barnes more credit Artemis. He can handle more than you think. That includes your bad days.”

 

~

 

“You got a motorcycle?” Artie stands on the curb outside the café with Peggy and Steve about a week later.

Steve scrubs at the back of his neck and Peggy rolls her eyes at Artemis, “Yes, he did, _without_ consulting anyone.” She says pointedly.

Steve turns red but defends himself, “I’ve always wanted one and I finally had the money and so…” he trails off and gestures sheepishly at the bike before him.

Artemis shivers and grins suddenly, “Got a second helmet?”

He frowns, “Yeah, for Peggy, why- Oh, you want a ride?”

She wags her finger at him, “You’re not the fool they lead me to believe you to be, Rogers.” He rolls his eyes at her and tosses her the other helmet.

Peggy smiles at them and kisses Steve before she waves and walks back across the street to the hospital. Steve watches, face red, small smile on his face before he turns to Artemis. “It’s been a while since we’ve hung out.”

“I know. It’s been a real tragedy in my life without your snarky comments.” She says as Steve throws his leg over the motorcycle.

He sticks his tongue out at her as she stuffs the helmet on her head, “Bucky’s gonna kill me when he finds out about this.”

“Bucky isn’t my keeper,” she says as Steve puts his own helmet on. “Besides you’re the most cautious person I know.” But she can’t keep her amusement in for long before she bursts out laughing.

“Ha, ha, ha,” he says drolly, kicking the bike to life. The roar of the engine spiking adrenaline in Artie’s blood as she wraps her arms around him. “The only reason I got the helmets were for Peggy’s peace of mind,” he shouts over the rumbling engine.

Artie lets out a wild laugh and leans forward, “Show me your truly reckless side then, Stevie. The wardens aren’t here.”

He lets out a loud laugh and pushes away from the curve, revving the engine.

 

~

 

Steve takes them all around the city, going dangerously fast at some points, taking turns wildly, and going the wrong way down one-way streets to the sound of honking horns and angry curses. Steve thinks that Artemis might be the only person more excited about the bike than him. She’s a great passenger and Steve is reminded of why he likes her so much, why she’s such a great friend to have. There are no problems with Artemis. The world is okay, everything is fine for that short amount of time. He can’t think of anyone better for his troubled best friend to have fallen for.

They stop off for something to eat at a small Indian restaurant where Steve finally gets a good look at Artemis. She has circles under her eyes, worse than usual. Her clothes are rumpled and she looks thinner than he’s ever seen her. She pushes her food around her plate, eyes dull and distracted, not her usual bright self at all. It’s easy for her to be reckless and joyously happy on the back of the motorcycle. But when brought back down to earth it’s hard to miss how miserable she looks, worn down and hollowed out. 

Steve reaches out and puts his hand over hers. “What’s wrong?”

She stares at their hands for a few moment before tears well in her eyes that have nothing to do with the spicy food. Artemis blinks fiercely and says through her teeth, “Nothing.”

“Then why is it that you and Bucky’s moods always echo each other?”

Her head whips up, “What?”

“He’s been miserable the last week and hasn’t said anything about you. He usually never shuts up about you.” She takes her hand back from underneath his and refuses to say anything. “Artemis…you haven’t seen him have you?”

“No,” she says, refusing to meet Steve’s eyes. “God, Steve why did you have to ruin-,”

“Artemis.” He says sternly, “What’s going on?”

She stays silent and stares out the window at the falling snow, now starting to stick to the street and Steve’s motorcycle. Steve waits for her to speak and continues eating. “He’s better off without me, Steve.”

Steve frowns and glances at her, “How so?” When she doesn’t answer he continues, “See ‘cause to me he does better _with_ you. Everyone sees it but you I guess.”

“Steve…”

“No, seriously Artie, explain it to me.” His eyes are hard and she looks away.

“He’s reliant on me.”

“And you’re reliant on him. It’s mutual. I’m reliant on him too and he’s reliant on me. It isn’t a bad thing.” He goes back to his food, stabbing violently at it.

She stares at him and bites her lip but doesn’t say anything. It’s quiet for a while as Steve eats and Artie pushes her food around her plate. “I’m scared, Steve.”

He looks up and sets his fork aside, “Why?”

“I’m so afraid of pushing him backwards. It’s the only thing I seem to be able to do with people I care about and I-,” she cuts off and stares down into her lap. “I love him so much it scares me.”

“Artie, look at me for a minute,” she lifts her head and makes herself meet Steve’s eyes. “You aren’t what your sister said you are. You and Bucky are so good at talking and understanding each other. You need to get back to that. What happened the other day isn’t your fault. It wasn’t even that bad, not compared with other times. You know that. It’s…it’s just this new thing between you two that makes you think it was your fault.”

He reaches out and takes her hand again, “You gotta learn to let that guilt go. Trust me. I know. Especially with this though because you _aren’t doing anything wrong_.”

She nods, “How?”

“I don’t know,” he says, ever honest. “But believe me when I say you do so much good for him, for me, for everyone. Maybe start there. Realizing that you are _good_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there's been a fair amount of angst these last few chapters but it'll get better soon. :* thoughts?


	25. Forever, Forever

_“Doll?”_

_“Hey, Buck,” I whisper, taking in his suit and slicked back hair. “You clean up nice, babydoll.”_

_“I could say the same about you, sweetheart.” He holds me in his arms and smiles at me when I notice it. He has two arms._

_“Bucky?”_

_“Call me James darling.”_

_“James?” That wasn’t right. He didn’t go by James._

_“Yeah, baby, James,” he says and I frown. He didn’t call me ‘baby’ either. I pull away from him, brow creasing. “What?” He holds his arms out and flexes both, “Whole and lovely, eh?”_

_“You were whole and lovely before.”_

_“Before what, baby?”_

_I frown and dart forward, undoing the top few buttons of his shirt. He chuckles, “Save that for later, huh-,” His voice drowns out. No scars. He’s bigger too, more muscle and weight._

_“Bucky?”_

_“James,” he growls, grabbing me, something Bucky would never do. “Dance with me.” I do, not quite sure what else to do. He spins me and gasps, letting me go. I fall to the floor, knees smarting as I glance back at him to find him staring at my back in open revulsion. The red dress I’m wearing has an open back, hiding nothing from the world. The scars there on open display._

_“James,” I whisper. He just shakes his head._

_“Broken,” he whispers back._

I wake with a gasp, bolting upright in bed. I close my eyes and swallow down the nausea rising inside me. God, I missed Bucky. My phone lets me know it’s only four in the morning. My heart fractures and my resolve cracks. Fuck, I need him.

I shove my feet into my boots and grab a coat before I bolt for it, pausing only long enough to lock the café’s door behind me. Skidding on ice, I run across the street and then through the halls of the familiar hospital until I make it to his room. Bucky’s asleep, twisting and turning and mumbling. I sit on the chair next to his bed, sure that he wouldn’t want me in bed with him. I reach out and smooth my fingers down his arm, shushing gently until he settles back against the pillows. “It’s alright, babydoll.” I whisper, pressing my fingers to his sweaty forehead. “I got you. I’m here.”

He turns toward me and huffs out a small breath, “Artie.” He wakes gently over a few minutes. “Sweetheart…” he whispers and then groans as he sits up. “You’re here.” He rubs at his eyes, purple rings beneath them.

“I’m here,” I say as he takes my hand.

He tugs on my hand until I climb into bed with him. I snuggle into his chest as he wraps his arm around me and lies back. “Please don’t leave me again, love. Please, you promised, remember?”

“I remember, babydoll. I remember.”

“Then why?”

“You’re too precious to me to destroy.” His grip tightens around me.

He’s quiet for a long few minutes, fingers massaging down my back. Bucky hums gently against me, a calm, tender tune. “You won’t. You can’t. We’re-,”

“Better together. I know. I know that now, babydoll.” I press my face into his shirt, tears stinging my eyes, “I’ve been miserable without you.”

“You’re here now, Artemis.” He doesn’t even sound angry with me which only serves to make me feel worse.

I fist my hand in his shirt, “I missed you, Buck.” My voice is a low whine and I can’t find it in myself to be embarrassed.

“I know. I missed you too.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too, Artie.” His lips press against my forehead. “Me too.” He strokes his hand over my shoulders, “I’m sorry, doll.” His nose presses into my neck.

“Bucky…” I pull away and lean up to kiss his chin and then his mouth. His kisses me back fully and slowly as my heart hammers.

“Artie,” he presses his forehead to mine, “What happened?”

My lower lip wobbles as my emotions well up. I press my face back into his chest, “I was scared. I was so scared. I want you to be happy and whole and better and good and I just felt that with me you couldn’t be those things-,”

“I’m all of those things with you.” He nuzzles his face into my hair, “I am. I told you we’re better together. I wasn’t just saying that.” He sighs gently, mouth ghosting over my hairline, “We gotta talk, Artemis. We have to. Okay? No matter what it is you can say it to me.” He hums softly against my hair, “Please don’t do that again. Don’t go where I can’t follow.”

“Okay. Okay, hon.” I slip my hands inside his shirt, pressing my lips to his neck. “I promise. Bucky, you’re mine okay? And I’m yours. And I’m sorry.”

“C’mere, doll,” he says and turns so I’m beneath him. “I’m not mad. Just…don’t go away again. I don’t think I’d be able to stand it a second time.”

I press my fingers under the hem of his shirt, rubbing my hands up and down his ribs and over his chest. “Never, Buck, never.”

“Promise me?” he asks, voice small and vulnerable.

“I promise.” I whisper as I lean up to kiss him. “Promise.” I rub my nose along his jaw, “Promise, promise, promise.” I run my fingers down his ribs down to the waistband of his sweatpants, dipping my fingers under the band near his hips.

“Shit, Artie, stop,” he says, catching at my hands.

I nose at his neck and run my hands to the front, “Let me make you feel good babydoll. Let me make up everything to you.”

He groans and pulls away from me, “You already have, sweetheart. Trust me, I want to but not here, okay? Not when you’re so unsure-,”

“I’m not unsure-,”

He chuckles and runs his hand up my back, “I mean when emotions are so high.” He noses at my neck, “I want it to be special.” His teeth scrape along my throat, “Besides I’ll make the wait worth your while.” Bucky’s voice is rough and heavy.

I shiver in his grasp and curl into his chest, just happy to be back where I belong. “Better make it worth my while, Buchanan. Want me to tell you what I’ll do to you? Or maybe you tell me what you want me to do? Tell me where you want my pretty mouth? Hmm?”

He groans, “Shit, doll-,”

I giggle against him and kiss him gently, “I’m sorry I couldn’t resist-,”

“You’ll pay for it, doll,” he whispers against me.

I laugh and lick the corner of his mouth, “Or will you?” I lick the other corner.

He tightens his grip on me gently until it becomes hard to breathe, a comfortable pressure, “I have a feeling it’ll be me.” I hum against him curling up tighter as I rub my face against his chest.

He strokes my back down to my hip and then over my ass back up to my hip, “Darling, I’m so glad you’re back.” I huddle down into his side, face against his ribs, so happy that he’s glad.

 

~

 

“That ain’t how you put a Christmas tree up.”

“How the fuck do you put it up then?”

“Listen here you bumpkin-,”

“Did you just call me a bumpkin?” Tommy looks offended and scandalized beyond all recognition.

“You are a bumpkin!” Connor says heatedly. I rub my temples and wonder why the hell we thought inviting Connor to this would be a good idea.

Since Tommy and I’s studios allowed very little room we decided to get a Christmas tree for the café. And then decided to host a decorating party which Connor caught wind of. And so here he is, annoying the shit out of everyone.

“Listen here Connor-,”

“Alright, okay,” I say pulling away from Bucky to step in front of Tommy. “Calm down. Its fine, Tom.”

“It’s fucking tilted,” Connor says, gesturing wildly. Sam rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. “I mean honestly-,”

“One punch, Artemis, just one-,”

“No-,”

“I’ll take you anytime-,”

“Okay!” Steve says loudly. “Let’s do the lights first. Sam give me a hand?”

“I’ll help as well,” Peggy says, moving forward and away from Connor whom is vibrating with a tense, furious energy.

I move back to Bucky as Tommy and Connor start a staring contest. “Okay?”

“Mmm.” He hums, tucking me back into his side, kissing my hair. “They won’t kill each other right?” he whispers in my ear.

“Probably not, hon,” I kiss his shoulder. “They haven’t yet.” I lean against him.

Bucky and I stand quietly watching the others. Peggy and Steve start in on decorating the tree, as Sam teases Sharon about something. Tommy and Connor continue arguing while throwing various decorations back and forth. “It’s good isn’t it, babydoll? We are sorta like a family.”

He kisses the top of my head again, “We are a family.”

I turn and wrap my arms around him, “Come help me?” I pout at him, “Pretty please?”

“You know you don’t have to convince me, doll.” He kisses my forehead, “With what though?”

“Cookies.”

“Mmm. I can definitely help then,” he says, as I tug him after me to the kitchen. Bucky leans against the counter as I flit around gathering plates of holiday cookies and pies and pastries, a pot of coffee and a pot of tea, milk and sugar. I glance him as I dart by and stop.

“Buck?” I ask, an odd expression on his face. He shakes his head and smiles.

“I’m just glad you’re back.”

My heart breaks and I look down, twisting my fingers together anxiously. “I’m-,”

He steps forward and ducks his head to kiss me, slow and sweet, “No more of that, doll. We’re both here now. That’s all that matters.”

“God, Bucky, I was so stupid…” I whisper as I look down.   

He grasps my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes, “No, you weren’t. I want you to want this and-,”

“I do.” I fist my hands in his shirt, “I do, I do. I just-Steve was right. I’m so guilty. I feel so bad about everything.”

“It wasn’t your fault-,”

“I know that now, babydoll. I know.” I pull him down for a kiss, sweet and long. He passes his tongue over my lip, begging entrance. I open my mouth, humming gently, as his tongue slips into my mouth, tasting me. Bucky wraps his arm around me and lifts me onto the counter. I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him close, as his hand goes under my shirt and trails up my back.

I gasp and pull away as his hand hits the start of the scarring on my back. “Doll?” Heat floods my face and Bucky frowns at me.

“I’m sorry I should have warned you-,” God, the disgust of transference from smooth skin to scar tissue must have been awful.

“About this?” His hand runs over the ruined skin again as I shiver, “Why?”

“It’s awful-,” My voice chokes off, embarrassment thick in my throat.

“It’s _you,_ sweetheart. And besides-,” Bucky starts, his tone sincere and loving.

“ARTEMIS!” Tommy’s voice cuts through Bucky’s. “Tell this little rat bastard-,”

“I’ll show you rat bastard-,” comes Connors voice before the sound of scuffling.

I sigh and press my forehead to Bucky’s, “A conversation for another time, hon.”

He stops me as I try to move from the counter, “Artemis, I just need you to know- you accept me for all my flaws and I accept you for yours. But this-,” He runs his hand up my back again. “It’s nothing. You’re perfect.”

I press my hands to either side of his face, looking deeply into his eyes, “How did I get so lucky?”

In response he just kisses me again, “I’m the one that got lucky.”

 

~

 

Later that night when everyone is fat and happy on cookies and cake and coffee, playing cards and cursing each other, Connor having passed out from drinking whiskey several hours earlier, it starts to snow. I dart outside into the street, childlike wonder filling me as I spin and glance upwards, batting at the flakes falling around me. I turn back to find Bucky standing anxiously in the doorway. “Come back, doll,” he requests softly.

“You come out here,” I say and spin again. He stays firmly in the doorway, watching nervously. “Don’t you trust me, babydoll?”

“I trust you.” He says, the glow of the newly decorated café casting him in a heavenly light, “It’s the world I don’t trust.” He closes the door behind him but keeps his back pressed against it.

I twirl back up onto the sidewalk and bump my hips against his, “Please, babydoll? I’m here, nothing bad will happen. Do you know how to dance?”

“Yeah,” he says, eyeing me curiously.

I giggle and tug at his hips, “Dance with me!” He looks at the street devoid of people and sighs heavily.

“Only for you.” He grabs my hand and leads me out into the middle of the sidewalk twirling and dipping me low. It only takes a few minutes for him to forget about the dark street. He’s laughing soon enough, as carefree as I’d ever seen him. Bucky swings us around the sidewalk, laughing and smiling, snow drifting down around us, light and darkness mixing evenly in the street.

He stops abruptly after a few wild minutes and pulls me close, breathing hard, chest to chest. “I love you, Artie.” He squeezes me tight as he looks into my eyes, bright blue wonder staring into mine, “I do. I always will. You don’t have to say it back, but I need you to know. I love you.”

“Buck,” I reach up and trail my fingers along his cheek, fingers catching on his stubble, skin pink and flushed from the cold underneath, “I love you too.”

“Oh good.” He laughs and kisses me. “I love you,” Bucky says again, kissing me sloppily, wet and too much. I squeal and pull away, but he holds me tight against him and does it again. “I love you, doll. I love you. I love you.”

I bury my face in his neck, red and embarrassed, “God, sweetheart, don’t be embarrassed. I love you. I’m not embarrassed.”

“Love you too, Buck,” I kiss his neck, “Really, truly, I love you.”

He grins so wide his face looks ready to split. Bucky wraps his arm around me, picks me up and spins around. He sets me down and presses another wet kiss to my cheeks and then my mouth. “That’s more than I could have ever asked for, sweetheart.” Snow settles on his shoulders and in his hair, turning him to a salt and pepper version of himself. I brush my hands through his hair and pull him tight to me again, my arms going around his shoulders.

Bucky presses his mouth to mine again as snow dances down around us, the warm glow from the café filtering around us. “I love you, my soldier, for as long as you’ll allow.”

“Forever, forever,” he breaths back.    


	26. Irish Whiskey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually super proud of this chapter. It's super fluffy and lovely. I hope you guys are doing well and I would love to hear your thoughts about this one especially. :) <3

Bucky continues to do better. He continues to gain weight and open up. Artemis continues to stay by his side, although Bucky sometimes catches her looking guilty and has to reassure her. But that’s what he’s there for. They’re better together, that’s something he’s completely sure of. Artie seems to agree which is more than Bucky could have ever hoped for.

He’s been standing at the café behind the counter watching Artie dart around, refilling cups and talking to customers. She’s been talking to a man around their age for a few minutes now, laughing and listening in equal parts. Bucky’s been keeping a close watch on the pair of them from the counter, Tommy beside him smirking. He leans over now and whispers, “Jealous Barnes?”

Bucky glares at him and returns his attention to the laughing soldier and smiling Artemis. Bucky watches as the man looks over and runs his eyes over him before looking back to Artie. The man nods over at Bucky without taking his eyes off of Artemis. She glances over at Bucky and shrugs before standing and taking the soldier’s arm. Bucky’s gut twists as they make their way over to him.

“Hey Buck!” She greets as they near the counter. “This is Michael and he’s doing a project with wounded vets.” Bucky frowns at her and then nods at the man in greeting.

The guy nods at Bucky with a smile and starts to explain his project. Bucky mostly tunes him out and keeps an eye on Michael’s hand settled on Artie’s hip. The noise of the café grows to a buzz before he notices Artie frowning at him and realizes Michael has stopped talking. “Okay?” She asks. He nods, he’s okay.

She frowns again as Bucky goes back to wiping down the counter. “Uh…I’ll have to talk to him about it Mike. If you wanna give me your number-,” Bucky tunes them out again as Artie pulls her phone from her pocket and allows Michael to program his number into it. He hugs her before he goes and kisses her cheek.

The rest of the day passes fairly quickly and before Bucky knows it he and Artie are crossing the street back to the hospital hand in hand. She’s humming quietly as they dash inside the building, shaking snow out of their hair and coats, a habit of hers that Bucky adores. He watches her face carefully as they make their way back to his room, attempting to gauge her mood.

“Doll?”

“Yeah Buck?” She turns to him as they near his door. Bucky wraps his arm around her and pulls her close, nuzzling his face into her hair.

“I love you.”

She laughs and kisses his jaw and he’s afraid for a moment that she won’t say it back but then she whispers, “I love you, Bucky.” He kisses her then as she grasps the front of his jacket, it’s sudden and rough and needy and exactly what he needs in that moment to drive Michael and his hand on her hip out of his mind, _his_ lips on her cheek. Her back hits the wall, his hand going to the wall beside her head as she bites roughly at his bottom lip. She pulls away as he automatically goes to her neck, nipping and licking his way down her throat, before he remembers Michael’s lips on her cheek and licks her there, animalistic and needy, marking her. “Buck,” she whispers breathily, laughing as he moves back to her throat. “Hey,” she pushes at his shoulder. He stops immediately and looks down at her, both breathing hard. Bucky struggles to focus as her fingers rake down his back.  

She brings her hands up to his face and looks down the hall at the retreating back of a nurse and sighs as Bucky chuckles and smirks. “You’re horrible,” she accuses. “What’s this about?”

“Nothin’. Just wanted to kiss you.” He dips down to kiss her again but she giggles and turns her head so his lips only meet her cheek.  

“Michael?”

He huffs out a breath and lets his head fall as he takes his hand away from the wall. “Yeah.”

“He’s an old friend.”

Fuck, it’s worse than he thought. “Old friend as in…?” He hedges. He remembers briefly all the ways in which Michael is better than him. Handsome, whole, funny, outgoing. How easy, he realizes, it would be for most anyone to take Artemis away from him.

“As in an old friend. From basic.” She cradles his cheek and strokes her thumb across his cheekbone. “There’s only you for me, babydoll. Did you even hear what he was asking about or were you too jealous?”

She grins at him as he scoffs, “I wasn’t jealous-,”

“Sure thing, Buchanan.” She says as she turns to go into his room, taking her coat off as she goes. Bucky follows but doesn’t say anything as he knows she’s right, that there’s no use in denying it.

“So…you two weren’t…uh, y’know,” he says lamely as he struggles with his coat until Artie gently helps him out of it.

“I don’t know what you mean, Buck.” She says, laying their coats over the back of a chair and putting her hands on her hips as Bucky looks anywhere in the room but her eyes.

He scrubs at the back of his neck, “Uh, like together or anything…old…lovers?” He asks, cringing internally.

“Are you asking if we were fuck buddies?” He looks up at her as she smirks at him proudly as his face turns red.

“God, Artie, I dunno, I-,” she darts forward and presses her mouth to his, arms winding around his neck.

“No,” she whispers against his mouth, “we were _friends_. Nothing more.”

He sighs against her, ghosting his mouth over her lips, but not quite kissing her, “What was he askin’ about then doll?” Bucky really doesn’t give a shit what he was asking about but it seems important to his girl and so it’s important to him.

She pulls away and shakes her finger at him, “Nope.”

“What?” He’s shocked by the sudden absence of her.

“We haven’t talked about you in a while and I need an update.” She smiles at him and flops down on the bed, lying back. “I want coffee and some pastries or-,” She sits up and gives him a wicked grin, “What about some Irish coffee?”

“As in coffee with whiskey in it?”

“God, take the fun out of everything why don’t you.”

“I can be fun.”

“Prove it.”

He grins. “Go get the Irish coffee then.”

 

~

 

Morning comes and Steve finds Artie and Bucky sleeping in the corner of Bucky’s room together on the floor. Bucky’s body is curled in a protective shell around Artie’s smaller body, their hands clasped and held against her stomach. Two mugs sit nearby and the smell of whiskey is thick in the room. Steve covers them with a blanket as he shakes his head and goes to find a nurse who can give him some aspirin as he wonders how they ended up there.

 

*The previous night*

 

Artie won’t stop giggling, her face nestled into Bucky’s neck. They both smell like coffee and Irish whiskey but he likes it and only slightly misses her coffee and mint smell. She continues to giggle and Bucky continues to smile even though nothing is really funny. She kisses him there and pulls away to lie back. But Bucky isn’t quite done with her and so he slides his arm under her back and encourages her to move back onto his chest.

“What do you want, babydoll?” Her hands cup around his neck, massaging and kneading.

“You.” He says as she leans forward and rubs their noses together. She hums happily at his response, prompting several long minutes of lazy, sloppy kissing. Artie’s fingers curl into his hair, tugging gently until Bucky moans into her mouth. They had stopped worrying about the next day several hours earlier, resigning themselves to the hangover it would surly bring for both of them. Artemis had had enough forethought to make the coffee decaf but when Bucky had found out they had dispensed with it entirely and started on the challenge of polishing off the bottle of whiskey without diluting it with coffee. Luckily neither of them were mean drunks or angry drunks but idle, happy drunks.

Bucky’s hand slips up her shirt now to pass over the damaged scar tissue on her back. Artemis pulls away, face burning with shame. “Hey, hey, hey, where’re ya goin’?” He pulls her back down and attempts to kiss her again but she turns her head. “Artie?” He slides his hand up her back again, “Is it this?” She nods and still doesn’t look at him. He considers her for a moment, her face still red, eyes downcast. And Bucky can’t let her think ill of herself. “Let me see,” he whispers to her. She jerks away from him, eyes wide and startled.

“No! No, I-no, Buck. You’ll hate it, you’ll-,” She starts to pull away but Bucky pulls her back down.

“No.” He says gently. “You’re beautiful. If you’ll show me, I wanna see.” She can’t detect a lie or any deceit and it’s Bucky besides, whom she trusts and loves and who will eventually see all of her anyways. So, she sits up and throws back another swallow of whiskey before she turns her back to him and pulls off her shirt entirely. Bucky sits up slowly and takes no time in noticing she doesn’t have a bra on. He leans forward and gently ghosts his hand over her shoulder blades, taking in the surgical scars and angry pink scarred skin taking up half her back.

“Ugly isn’t it?” Bucky’s only response is to press kisses along her back, her shoulders, her neck.

“It’s you.” He whispers, drunk on whiskey and the taste of her skin. She turns to him, bare-chested and unashamed. He takes her in, breasts perky, nipples pert. He takes in the smooth expanse of lightly muscled stomach, hipbones jutting out near the waistband of her jeans. It’s suddenly a little hard to breathe. His eyes travel back up to meet her eyes. “How did it happen?”

She shrugs and turns her back to him, “Building fell in and the concrete was hot from the shell, melding my uniform right onto my back.” He winces and kisses along the scars again, winding his arm around her waist, touching her soft skin, fingers traveling up to squeeze each of her breasts lightly. Artemis arches into him as she turns her head slightly to kiss his cheek, his chin resting on her shoulder.

He pulls away and runs his fingers over her back again as he kisses the back of her neck lightly. “Beautiful, doll, that’s all you’ll ever be to me.” She settles against him, drinking a bit more, reveling in the burn the alcohol sears down her throat. His fingers drag to the base of her spine and then back up, feeling each vertebrae under his touch. “These scars?”

“From the surgery. I told you how some of my spinal plates were broken.” He nods against her back, forehead braced against her shoulder, and traces the pink, raised lines.

“Beautiful, sweetheart, beautiful,” he places open mouthed kisses against her back and Artie takes a shaky breath before turning to him.    

“I don’t deserve someone as sweet as you,” she says to him, her voice sad and slightly slurred. “Can I put my shirt on?”

He lets go of her, his fingers having settled on her hip, “You don’t have to ask me that.”

She pushes Bucky back against the bed and straddles his hips once her shirt is back on. “God, can’t we just drunk make out like a normal couple?”

“We ain’t a normal couple, doll, and I wouldn’t have it any-,” he’s cut off as she leans down and kisses him, her hand cupping around his wrist as she holds it against the mattress. It’s slow and lazy and definitely drunken. She giggles and let’s go of his hand and he’s glad they’ve left the seriousness behind again, his hand going to knead her ass. He gives it a light smack before smoothing his hand over her ass as she jumps and yelps and then laughs. They kiss and kiss and kiss and Bucky is on cloud nine until he realizes they aren’t anymore. He’s been talking and rubbing her back as she kisses his neck, and fuck, is she good at it. She’s also a biter which Bucky decides he loves as she nips at him again, not sure what he’s talking about anymore, a low groan escaping him as his voice trails off.

She pulls back and inadvertently grinds down onto him. “Artemis-,” he says, voice tight. She does it again and this time it’s definitely not inadvertently.

“More whiskey?” She grins wickedly and continues to grind down onto him.

He grabs her hip, keeping her still, voice strained, “Yeah.” She moves off of him and grabs the bottle to splash more amber liquid into a mug. They share the cup, passing it back and forth, Bucky seeing her scarred back and her perfect breasts as he watches her drink. He struggles to control his thoughts and not think about what the rest of her looks like unclothed. Bucky knows the only thing keeping him from getting hard is that fact that he’s so drunk.

After a few more swallows each they lay back together, Artie tucked into Bucky’s side. Her forehead pressed into his ribs, a soft gentle song leaving her lips. Bucky listens and strokes her hair, sleepy and happy and full. “My mother used to hum like that.” He didn’t mean to say that but now it’s out there and so he doesn’t say anything else, waiting to see Artie’s reaction.

She stops humming and then kisses his side, “She did?” Bucky never talked about his family, said he didn’t remember them.

“She would hum us to sleep.” He feels this is okay to say, stomach tightening just a bit, anxiety creeping in.

“Us?”

“Me and my sisters.” He pauses for a second then adds, “My baby sisters.”

“You wanna talk about them babydoll?” She asks gently. Bucky knows that he can talk to her but that doesn’t mean he’s ready to.  

He shakes his head, “No. You just hum like her.”

“Would you like me to stop?”

Bucky thinks about it for a few seconds, “No.” He likes the sound of her voice, it’s comforting and homey. He doesn’t want her to stop.

“What happened to them?” her voice is careful as she asks this.

He keeps his voice as emotionless as possible which is more than a little difficult in his current state. “Killed in a car accident when I was sixteen.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, her voice quiet and sincere.

He doesn’t say anything but continues to pet her hair. “Don’t remember much about them. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay, babydoll.” She burrows down next to him and begins to hum again, low and sweet. Bucky feels wild love well in his chest again for how well she knows him. His eyes start to drift closed when she moves again, pulling away from him and taking her body heat with her.

“Artemis?”

“I’m sleepin’ on the floor.” She says, her voice definitely slurred now, as she grabs a pillow.

“Why?” He asks, sitting up and watching her move to the corner of the room. She tilts her head to the side.

“You know why.” He did. Some days the floor was more comfortable than the bed.

He rolls his eyes and stumbles to his feet, “Okay.” They curl in the corner together, drinking a little more and not regretting it at all. “I love you, doll.” She noses at his jaw and kisses him there, warm sleepiness overcoming both of them. He knows the floor would probably be cold if not for Artie and the alcohol running through his blood. He curls his body around hers, tangling their fingers together. He kisses behind her ear before dropping off entirely.

 

~

 

Bucky wakes with a groan, alone in the corner of his room, a pillow stuffed under his head and a blanket thrown over his body. A glass of water and a plastic up with two aspirin sit nearby. Artemis is nowhere to be found, the room empty. But then he hears the toilet flush and the sound of running water from the bathroom. She emerges a few minutes later, a wet washcloth in hand. She smiles when she sees him awake. “Morning, Sarge.”

“Morning, doll. How the hell are you so…happy?” He squints up at her, even the low lights hurting his eyes, his head pounding.

She laughs and sits down on the floor next to him, crossing her legs. He notices with no small amount of pride that she changed into some of his clothes at some point. “Me and Tommy used to be master drinkers. Drink all night, go to school the next morning with no one the wiser. Lay back, babydoll.” He shifts onto his back as she lays the cool cloth across his forehead. “Take these pills. They’ll help with the headache. And drink all the water for the dry mouth I know you have.”

“Yes, mom,” he says but does as he’s told. He sits up to take the pills and Artie moves behind him, expert fingers immediately working kinks out of his bad shoulder from the night on the floor.

“You didn’t have to sleep on the floor with me, hon.” She says as she pecks the shell of his ear. Artemis continues to rub his back, paying special attention to his shoulders.  

“Yeah, I did. Besides you’re right. The floor is better.” He admits as she hums in response and wraps her arms around his body, tugging until he leans back into her. She runs her hands inside the collar of his hoodie over his chest as she noses at his throat. Artie takes the washcloth that’s started to slip down his forehead and runs it over the rest of his face before taking her hands away from him entirely. Bucky protests the motion by leaning back on her fully, trapping her there.

She laughs and brushes his hair out of his face, “C’mon, back to the bed. Don’t make the floor a habit or it’ll make me cry.”

He sighs and starts to get heavily to his feet, “Well we can’t have that.” She darts up beside him and helps him settle before fliting to the hallway to retrieve something. A tray. “Ugh, no, I can’t eat.”

She frowns at him and falters slightly, sitting the tray at the end of the bed. Guilt shines in her eyes for a second before it disappears and Artie sits beside him, knocking her shoulder into his, “I’ll help you. We’ll be gross and hungover together.”

“Can I kiss you or am I too gross and hungover?”

She leans forward, eyes wide and bright and curious. Bucky watches as she brings her hand up to caress his jaw, her thumb going to his lips to trace the bottom curve before she shifts so she can trace his mouth with her forefinger. “D’you know you have the prettiest lips I’ve ever seen on anyone? I can't even explain it. They just are. The shape perhaps?” He laughs and moves his face away from her hand, only a little red. “The other thing I like about you so much is that you don’t get mad at me when I call you pretty.”

He glances up and pulls her into his lap until her knees are on either side of his hips, “Now why would that make me mad?”

She shrugs and tugs his hair, “Macho guy stuff? I don’t know. Boys don’t like to be called pretty. That’s what one told me once.”

He shakes his head, “I love it.” Bucky can’t imagine being angry with her over something so petty and….well, he does love it.  

She presses her hand over his heart and hovers her lips over his, almost close enough to touch. “Kiss me,” she whispers. And Bucky really can’t say no, not that he wants to, so he leans up and presses his mouth very gently to hers. Artie abruptly pushes him backwards, food forgotten, as she continues to kiss him, gently prying his lips open with hers so she can slip her tongue in.

Bucky pulls back when he needs air and she buries her face in his neck. He clutches her tight and squeezes his eyes closed, “I’m so happy you found me, Artemis. Whatever brought you to me, whatever made this possible…I’m so happy for.”

She clutches him tighter and then asks, “Do you remember last night?”

He freezes, “Yeah.” When she doesn’t say anything else he asks, “Do you?”

“Yes.” She rolls off of him and sighs, “I was wondering if you remembered my…the scars.”

He doesn’t say anything, trying to make sense of her statement, reconcile it. “Did ya…did ya only show me because you thought I wouldn’t remember?”

“No. No, I wanted you to.” She looks over at him and then sits up and encourages him to do the same before plopping between his legs and pulling the tray up onto her own. She leans her back against his chest and makes a content noise. “I’m happy you remember. Did you mean what you said about it?”

He drops a kiss to her hair, “Yes.”

She passes him a spoonful of food and refuses to say anything else until he begins to eat slowly. After a few bites she says, voice strangely small and worried, “Will you show me yours? When you’re ready of course-,”

“Yes, doll. Yes.” She makes that strange little purring noise again in response. He continues to eat and then takes his regimen of drugs as Artie stays curled into his chest, a warm, comfortable weight. He looks down at her as her eyes slowly close and has the sudden thought that his mother would have loved Artie, his sisters too. He doesn’t know where the thought came from but he knows it’s true. He thinks that maybe one day he’ll take Artie to meet them at the cemetery, when he’s ready of course.

Bucky hadn’t thought that happiness was possible after what happened to him but now he knows it is, but also something that one has to work for. He’s willing to work for it, glad to have the chance. The room is warm and still smells like whiskey, Artie is safe and snow falls outside the window. He knows Steve is near and finding his own happiness. And so he looks down at Artie whose wide eyes have blinked back open and have been watching him and says, “Merry Christmas Eve, doll.”

He hadn’t been planning to make it to Christmas but he’s really glad that he has.


	27. One Month

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, I'm not sure how many chapters we have left but we are reaching the end of it. I still have quite a bit planned however and sometimes I get carried away so we'll see. As always I would love to hear your thoughts! <3

The café’s phone has been ringing off the hook and the noise of it is really starting to grate on Bucky’s nerves. Artie refuses to answer it and so does Tommy. Connor is nowhere to be found for once, having made himself scarce following an incident where Bucky had nearly punched him.

He was released from the hospital a month ago and has been struggling ever since, although he has made significant progress not that said progress wasn’t gruelingly earned (the fucking subway for one). The café had become a haven for him until Connor had taken him on as a sort of project, one in which he poked the bear and continued to do so until said bear snapped. Connor attempted to get him to talk, then tried touching him, then spilled coffee on him accidentally on purpose to ‘see what would happen’. The final straw had come when he had looked Bucky in the eyes, smirked, and then slapped Artie on her lower back so hard her eyes had watered. So, Connor’s shifts have been infrequent and Bucky has been confined to the back kitchen, not that he much minded. Except for today, what with the phone and all.

Today has already been a Bad Day.

He had taken the subway without Steve (one of the first things he had insisted on accomplishing, for Artie of course, determined to see her whenever he pleased without the aid of Steve) and had a panic attack. Then Sam had been out sick and so he had gotten a fill in therapist who didn’t understand him at all. Steve had been late to the hospital from his new job, prompting anxiety and another panic attack. Artie is still upset with him for nearly punching Connor. And now the phone won’t stop ringing. On top of all of that Bucky had promised Artemis that he’d finally sit down with Michael, the wounded vet project man. But Bucky thinks at this point he’s more likely to punch the smug, blond asshole than listen to him.

One thing Bucky missed dearly about the hospital was the fact that the only human interactions he had to endure were scheduled. And one thing he had relearned about the world is that many people are very punch-able.

Bucky thinks Artemis might have realized his distress were it not for the fact that Tommy is having a Bad Day as well and therefore the entire café is being run by Artemis alone. Which of course prompts Bucky into feeling guilty about almost punching Connor because if not for that he’d be here to help Artemis.

He’s finally had enough of the phone however and reaches over to rip the wires out of the wall when he pauses. He could answer the phone, as the person couldn't see him (Sam has begun to think that Bucky's fear of talking stemmed from the need to evade notice while in captivity, and therefore contact that wasn't face to face might be easier), and help Artemis out just a little. Maybe. But also maybe not today. He panics and rips the wires out right as Artie walks in, hair in a ponytail, face sweaty and red. She looks at him, the wires in his hand and closes her eyes. Artemis takes a deep breath and then opens her eyes, and Bucky’s day only gets worse because he’s never seen her look so defeated or disappointed.   

“I’m sorry. It was-,”

She only gently pushes him out of the way to grab something from the cooler under the counter. “Don’t worry about it,” she says but her voice is clipped and sharp and she doesn’t look at him as she moves back to the door, a pitcher of iced coffee in her hands. 

After she’s gone again Bucky attempts to shove the wires back in the right holes to get the landline phone working again but nothing seems to make the damn thing want to ring. And so now he’s pissed that the phone _won’t_ ring. He thinks about leaving, of taking a cab (because a second subway trip is a no go at this point) back to Steve’s and lying down in the dark, warm safety of his room but he promised Artie… He’s torn.

But then the kitchen door swings open again and Artie rushes at him, throwing her arms around his neck and whispering, “Sorry. Go upstairs and lie down. I think everyone is having a bad day.”

 

~

 

Bucky has been in Artie’s apartment a lot over the last month, sometimes staying the night, sometimes just to get away from everything. It’s dark, the curtains shut, and warm, almost overly so, but that’s the way they like it. It’s one room with a large bed taking up most of the space and a kitchenette taking up the rest. Baking supplies sit out on the counter which Bucky knows are from Tommy and not Artie. The walls are blue and the floors wooden, the room sparsely decorated. The room echoes with the muted noise of city traffic and the café below but its soothing here instead of overwhelming. Bucky lies down on her bed, wrapped up in her scent and the darkness and the warmth, and the strain of the day mostly fades away.

 

~

 

He awakes to the sight of Artemis moving around the room lighting candles and clicking on only one lamp near the kitchenette to try and avoid waking him. He watches a moment longer and then carefully says, “Doll?”

She jumps, the matches in her hands scattering to the floor. Artemis stops, doesn’t turn, and stares down at the matches before bolting into the bathroom and shutting the door. Bucky sighs and gets up slowly, moving to the door and listening to the sounds of her filling the tub with water, then undressing, then…a quiet sigh and silence. He sits down with his back to the door and lets his head fall against it. “Artemis…” he trails off quietly. “I’m sorry for everything lately, sweetheart.” God, he's been hell on her since Christmas, reliant on her to navigate the world and desperately needy. He pauses and swallows thickly, “I know it’s been rough on you and I-,”

“Come in here, Buck.”

He hesitates, “You’re sure?”

“Yeah,” her voice is flat. He does as he’s told and shuts the door behind him. The lights in the room are dimmed and low. She sits in the tub with the water up around her, knees pulled to her chest, arms wrapped around her legs, cheek pressed to her knees. “C’mere.” Bucky sits down next to the bathtub and examines her. She unwarps her arms and leans against the side of the tub, holding her hand out to him. He takes it and presses a kiss to her wet palm. “What happened today, Buck?”

He shakes his head, “I’m sorry about the phone and about Connor and about Michael and about the café and-,”

“And I shouldn’t be mad at you about any of that.” He looks up to meet her eyes. She reaches out and strokes his cheek, “I shouldn’t. You’re just the easiest target for my frustration-,”

“Artemis.”

“Well it’s true! Connor hit me-,” Bucky grinds his teeth at the memory, hears the deep _thwack_ of Connor's hand and her wounded yelp. Bucky doesn't remember _what_ exactly happened after that, all he remembers is lunging at the little asshole. “-and you were just defending me so really I should be mad at him. But I’m mad at both of you.” She pushes some hair behind his ear, her fingers gentle and loving. “Connor is a real ass and I think that's why I’m so mad. You didn’t tell me he was bugging you until after he did that.” Her eyes soften, “If someone is bothering you, about talking, about socializing, about touch, you don’t have to take it. Especially not from a little shit like Connor.”

He's still so fucked up and still so undeserving of her kindness. But he says, “I know, sweetheart, I know-,”

“Do you?” He eyes are fierce and blazing. “Do you? Because I need you to know that in my domain you don’t have to take that shit. You should never have to but outside this café I can’t much help it.”

Bucky kisses her palm again and trails his fingers up her arm to her elbow before dragging back down. She shivers in his grip and says, voice tight with unshed tears, “Please know that I can protect you too.”

“God, doll, I know. I do. Today…this last month has just been hard.”

“And you’re doing so well-,”

“And so are you.” He makes sure to meet her eyes when he says this, “And you don’t have to do it alone. I almost answered that fucking phone today but I panicked and ripped the cords out instead.”

“You did?” she gives a teary laugh, “Well now I feel even worse about snapping at you.”

His stomach swoops, he wasn’t supposed to make her feel _worse_. “I didn’t mean-,”

“I know what you meant. I love you, Buck. For everything but mostly for almost answering my phone today.” She leans forward and gives his cheek a wet kiss. “I don’t think you fully know what it means that you tried.”

He leans forward and captures a kiss before she can pull fully away. “My fierce girl.”

Artie smiles, “My brave soldier.”

He huffs out a disbelieving breath and shakes his head, “I’ll leave you to your bath, doll.” Bucky starts to stand but stops when Artemis’s hand darts out and catches at his shirt.

“Steve called. I told him you were stayin’ with me,” she doesn’t look at him. “I know I should have asked first but, uh, y’know-I-I’ll take a cab with ya if you want to go-,”

He leans down over her and takes her chin gently in his hand, “That ain’t a problem. Trust me, sweetheart.” Bucky would stay with her forever if she allowed it.

“You’ll order pizza online for us?” He hums assent and rubs their noses together before he goes. “And you better tell me what happened today!” She shouts before the door can fully close. Bucky only laughs.

 

~

 

“When did you first know you loved me?”

“As soon as I saw you doll,” he says, poking her and not taking his eyes off the television in front of him. They’re sitting on Artie’s bed, pizza box between them, the lights low as they watch a movie. Artie hadn't let him turn the T.V. on until he had told her everything that had happened to him that day and made sure he was okay and thoroughly comforted. Really the whole thing had made him feel more guilty, undeserving as he is.

She frowns at him and jabs him back, “You hated me when we first met.”

“I did not!” When she only nudges him again he says, “I didn’t! How could anyone hate someone as lovely as you?”

“Mmhmm. Sweet talk all you want, Barnes. The next thing I know you’ll be comparing my likeness to the beauty of a rose. Like all the poets,” she sighs dramatically and rolls her eyes as she grabs another slice of pizza.

He pretends to think on it and then shakes his head, “Nah.”  

Artemis turns to him fully, cheeks full of pizza, “You ass!” Bucky laughs at the completely outraged expression on her face. “I’m not good enough to be your rose?”

“Flowers die,” he says and turns back to the T.V. “And they’re fickle. You’re sturdier than that.” She stares at the side of his head then drops the rest of her slice back in the box before she moves in front of him on her knees as she shoves him backward, pressing her mouth firmly into his.  

She straddles his hips and leans back a little, a grin on her face, “You idiot. That’s the stupidest, most romantic thing I’ve ever heard. And you called me _sturdy_. That’s not a _romantic_ word. It’s like God made a perfect man and dropped him at my doorstep-,”

He sits up fully, cradling her back and kisses her quiet, “A lighthouse. No, that’s not romantic. Or is it? You be the judge you’re the one I’m trying to woo.” She’s laughing so hard she can’t speak, clutching onto him and giving great heaving laughs.

“W-wooing me are you?”

“Lighthouse doesn’t work then? Would you rather be a fragile and prickly _rose_?” He says, putting his hand on her hip as he leans back so he can see her face.

She kisses his shoulder and hides her face in his neck as she requests softly, “Explain the lighthouse and maybe I’ll be less offended.”

He runs his hand over her thigh gently. “It endures storms and stays standing. It guides people home. It’s a light in a dark and dreary existence,” he explains easily, sure of his choice. But when she doesn’t move or hardly even breathe, Bucky worries maybe he said the wrong thing.

But then she exhales a long, slow breath and says, “I was right earlier. You are the perfect man.”

“Agree to disagree.” He says and she whacks his arm lightly before pushing him back, coincidentally right onto the open pizza box, and kissing him fully on the mouth, fingers threading through his hair as she rolls her hips into his.

“Perfect,” she whispers against his mouth.

Bucky grabs her hip, stilling her movements, not sure why he is. “I think maybe you’re the perfect one. You’re trying to seduce me and we’re lying in a box of half eaten pizza.”

She just bursts out laughing again. And even covered in sauce with cardboard jabbing into his back, after an awful fucking day, he’s happy. He runs his hand under her shirt, reveling in the fact that she no longer pulls away when he does. “You’re turn, sweetheart.”

“What?”

He rolls them so she’s underneath him and settles between her legs. She laughs at the red pizza sauce spread on his white shirt. Bucky presses his face into her stomach, movie forgotten. “When did you know?”

“Hmmm,” Artemis threads her fingers through his hair, lightly detangling it. “I dunno since you didn’t give me a straight answer.”

“Well I need a ballpark of how long back is embarrassing.”

“Oh so now I’m embarrassing.”

He groans and pushes his arm behind her back, “You’re so annoying.”

She smiles and massages his scalp before hooking her legs around his back. Artie runs her foot over his ass and laughs when he glares at her. “ _Fine_. Even though _I_ asked first I guess I’ll tell yo-,”

“It was after the time I remembered the grenade and you left. When you came back that’s when I knew.” He’s silent and still as he waits for her to say something, preparing for rejection or ridicule. Artemis’s hands continue their ministrations at his shoulders.

“That long?” she whispers.

Bucky squeezes her, afraid she might move away, “That’s why I needed a ballpark, doll. I knew it would freak you out.”

“I’m not freaked out.” She hooks her hand under his arm and tugs. “C’mere, my precious babydoll.” When he doesn’t move she scoots down the bed and cups her hands around his face. “Remember when Tommy told you about my family? And then I got mad at you? And you didn’t even care, you just wanted me to know that you were there? I think it was then that I knew.” She strokes his cheek, “So, you weren’t off by that much.” She grins and kisses him again.  

 

~

 

Bucky has put off meeting with Michael again. He doesn’t like him and not just because he’s good at getting Artie to smile, not just because he had danced with her on their roof on New Year’s. There’s something about the man that’s just off putting to him. Maybe it’s because he feels like Michael is trying to fix him and dammit if he hasn’t just learned (not that he's always convinced) that he doesn’t need fixed, that nothing about him is broken. At least Artie believes that and so does Steve which is good enough for Bucky.

“I just don’t understand why you don’t want to sit down with him about this Buck.” She hip checks him playfully as she passes by his place at the kitchen counter in the café, “He does good work and for _free_ I mean-,”

“What if I don’t want one?” Bucky hadn’t actually given the idea of a prosthetic any thought. But since _Michael-_

“You don’t?” She stares at him from across the kitchen as she turns on the electric mixer.

He suddenly feels self-conscious and shifts so his left side is farthest away from her, “I-I don’t know…I didn’t realize it mattered to you-,”

She’s across the kitchen in a second, her hands on either side of his face, “No, no, no, no. It doesn’t, hon. I just thought…I shoulda asked. I never asked you did I?”

He shrugs, “Some vets just don’t-,”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll tell him you aren’t interested. Okay?” She dashes back to the mixer to pour the batter into a cake pan. Once the pan is in the oven she's back, pressed into his side. “I love you just the way you are. You know that don’t you?”

“I do.” He wraps his arm around her as she places delicate kisses against his neck, soft enough that you would think he’s made of glass. “I don’t like him.”

“Why?” She asks between kisses.

“He touches you too much.”

She laughs and pulls away, “Jealous?”

“Yes,” he growls and pulls her back, mashing their lips together. He remembers Michael's arms around her on New Year's Eve, swirling through the snow on the roof, and bites her lip roughly, extracting a little whimper from her that goes straight to his cock. He sees Michael's smug smirk over her shoulder. Bucky lifts her onto the counter suddenly desperate, needing to _feel_ that she's there with him, that she's his, right as the door swings open and Steve and Tommy walk in.

“Ugh, oh my god, this is that third fucking time this week. Would you two just fuck already so the rest of us can have some peace?”

Bucky presses his face into Artie’s shoulder, who then wraps her arms protectively around his head, “You’re just mad you don’t have anyone _to_ fuck, Thomas.”

Steve groans, “For god’s sake-,”

She laughs and pulls Bucky away from her shoulder to kiss again, rough and deep. Tommy gags and runs for it as Steve sighs quietly and leaves them to it. Bucky pulls away, “He just…I just have this gut feeling about him. And…somethin’ ain’t right.”

She looks into his eyes, worry and anxiety brewing there, and he knows he isn't the only one who has that feeling. "I know, Buck."


	28. Sophie

Michael, it seems, won’t leave them alone. Well, not so much _them_ as Artemis. Bucky and Artie have talked at length about the man, Bucky wants him to stay away, not sure what exactly about him gives him such anxiety but not liking it one bit. Artemis however is kinder and less suspicious, giving Michael the benefit of the doubt, even though Bucky senses some sort of history there, some sort of distrust. Bucky glowers at the man anytime he shows in the café and keeps Artemis close. And show up in the café he does, almost every day, bugging Artemis to no end about one thing or the other, but Bucky is always there, to protect, to deter.

Most everyone that is a regular at the café is used to Bucky’s silent presence. Some of them talk to him but hardly anyone expects him to say anything back. He can tell some of them are a little wary of him but no one says anything lest they incur the wrath of Artemis. Most of them however he genuinely likes, and they like him even if they’ve never heard him speak. So in an effort to keep him and Connor separated Bucky has been given refill duty today and Connor is confined to the back where he’s doing something with coffee beans, grinding them or smelling them or something, Bucky doesn’t know or care.

An argument had been going on when Bucky had come in today, Artemis and Connor whisper yelling at each other in the back as Tommy dealt with customers. Bucky was immediately on edge as he listened to Artie’s strained voice through the kitchen door.  

_“You can’t do that to him!”_

_“I can do whatever I want!”_

_“Not here you can’t! Try that shit again and see what happens.”_

_“He’s just so emotionless. I wanted to get a reaction out of him and he’s most emotional when it comes to you so-,”_

_“He is not something to be experimented on! He-,”_

And then Bucky had walked in, unable to listen to more. Now, he smiles at Ed and his granddaughter, Sophie, pouring more coffee and watching as the elderly man bounces the small girl on his knee. “Afternoon, James.” Ed is the only person in the café that calls him James. After a small argument had broken out one morning about the ‘ridiculousness’ of a name like Bucky. Bucky hadn’t minded as it is sort of ridiculous but it’s _his_ , even though Artemis had gotten heated about it and only settled down after Ed told her with a laugh, “At least he’s got a proper name. Every one of your names are ridiculous, _Artemis_.”

And so now Ed only calls him James. Bucky nods at Ed in response and smiles at the little girl. Sophie giggles up at him and waves, “Bucky!” He gives a nod of greeting. Sophie is by far his favorite customer. She had come in one day and immediately started hounding everyone there with questions which included Bucky, whom didn’t respond. When Artie gently explained to her that Bucky didn’t speak the girl had pondered it for a moment then immediately started chattering at Bucky this time without saying anything that required a response on his end. She followed him around whenever they were both at the café endlessly talking and laughing. Bucky didn’t mind, in fact he likes it. It’s like having a small, chattering bird follow him around, one who did not mind his silence one bit.

“I made you something at school,” she says now, scrambling off her grandfather’s knee to rummage around her schoolbag as the old Marine rolls his eyes affectionately. Bucky holds up a finger while still holding the coffee pot and goes to set it back at the counter before returning.

He crouches down to her level and waits as she searches in her bag. Sophie is about eight years old with dark curly brown hair, always kept in pigtails, and a pale freckled face. She’s whip thin and small for her age and she reminds Bucky both of his sisters and of Steve when he was young. She finally finds what she’s looking for and holds it out to him almost shyly.

Bucky takes it from her and examines the drawing with interest. It’s a rendition of himself and Sophie, standing very close but not touching, in a warm sunny meadow. It also very excellent for someone her age, the picture extremely realistic. He looks up at Sophie who is watching him nervously and smiles, before bringing the picture up to his heart. She smiles widely and looks to her grandfather, “He likes it! I told you he would!”

Ed just rolls his eyes again but Bucky catches him smiling. “You can keep it. I used it for an assignment first. I hope that’s okay.” She takes the drawing back and turns it over where a large, red B+ is marked. Bucky furrows his brows in confusion. “I got in trouble ‘cause we were supposed to write an essay about our hero but I’m better at drawing. I almost got a lower grade but my presentation was so good I got a B+.” She smiles proudly and hands the picture back to him.

“Maybe if you did what you were told for once you would have gotten an A,” Ed says. “Ain’t that right James?” Bucky shakes his head and smiles, bringing the picture to his chest again.

Ed rolls his eyes and grumbles something incoherent, perpetually grumpy. Bucky’s stuck on the fact that he’s this little girl’s chosen hero, rather choked up about it actually. Bucky makes a rather impulsive decision then and holds out his hand to her. Sophie stares, wide eyed and carefully puts her small hand inside his. He pulls her gently forward and gives her a hug. “Thank you,” he whispers to her. She pats him gently on the back before letting go. Bucky thinks he’s never seen anyone smile as big as Sophie when he pulls back. He stands then and smiles before turning away, catching Ed’s wink only at the last second.

 

~

 

The bell above the door clings just as Artie starts to move toward the back. She frowns. Hadn’t she locked the door? “Sorry, we’re closed-Oh! Michael, hi!” She greets, falsely cheerful.

He smiles from the doorway, blond hair wet and plastered to his forehead. “Sorry for the lateness,” he says, coming closer. Artemis feels her stomach clench.

“What can I do for you?” she asks nervously. Bucky and Tommy were both upstairs asleep. She’s alone in the café and normally she wouldn’t be frightened but Bucky’s paranoia about Michael’s intentions had snuck into her as well combined with memories of his behavior at basic training.

He scrubs at the back of his neck and says, “Well I was in the neighborhood and figured you’d be alone-,” this injects panic into her blood but she just smiles and checks that the gun she keeps hidden beneath the counter is still there. Artemis doesn’t know Michael well, had only briefly been acquaintances with him during basic training and even then she had been wary of him, nervous of his behavior. She had mainly entertained him before for Bucky’s sake, prosthetics were expensive after all and Michael worked at a company that apparently allowed him to give them to select people at no cost to them. She doesn’t know why she thought Bucky would want one but regrets the whole thing now. “-and I wanted to ask you out.” She tunes back in, her hand resting on the butt of the gun.

She takes her hand away and presses both of them flat to the counter top, very glad it’s between them. “Oh…Uh, I-No? You know I’m with-,”

“Barnes, right, I know. But I mean…how long can that last?”

She’s frozen for a moment, disbelief flooding her, “ _Excuse_ _me_?”

He rolls his eyes and smiles at her as though they’re both in on some secret joke. “I mean, its pity isn’t it?” When she doesn’t respond, only stares in confusion, he says, “How can you date someone you can’t speak to? I mean…what you’re doing is sort of… _cruel_ y’know? He seems like he’s really in love with you.”

“He talks to me-,” she starts coldly, ready to defend herself and Bucky but she’s interrupted.

He snorts out a laugh, “Sure he does-,”

“He _does_ and even if he didn’t it wouldn’t matter. I love him for who he is,” her voice is clipped and sharp. Her tongue feels vicious in her mouth and she has to reign herself in to avoid telling Michael exactly what she thinks about him.

Now he stares at her in disbelief, “You’re joking.” His voice is flat, bordering on slipping into unpleasant.

“No,” she growls. “I think its best if you go.” He rolls his eyes and makes as if to grab her hand but she yanks away. “ _Now_.” Michael doesn’t move and Artie can’t help but start to ask, “All that stuff about-,”

“Oh sure I was going to get him a prosthetic but then he had to ruin everything by denying that he wants one. He’s just jealous and maybe if you told him you don’t really care about h-,”

Artemis interrupts him, her voice whip sharp, “How dare you? You used him to get to _me_ and then have the audacity to still accuse me of dating him out of _pity_?” She flinches back away from him when he tries to grab her again.

His features are cold now, as he takes in her defensive body language, “Seems about right. You were always stuck up. Tight little cunt that no one could fuck because of that shadow of yours always following you around base.” He spits, “ _Tommy_.”  

“Get out.” She grates, gritting her teeth.  

“People tried you know,” he says, “but you’re so fucking frigid. Wouldn’t let anyone near you. Wanted to be everyone’s _friend_.”

Her temper flares, white hot, “Not everyone was out to try and fuck me! I’m as much as a soldier as you are-,” Artie knows where he’s leading with this. That women didn’t belong in the military, that they were distracting.  

He rolls his eyes, “Sweetheart they went _easy_ on the women, if you had to endure what we did…well the least you could have done was fuck us.”    

She slaps him so hard her hand aches. “Get out! And don’t let me catch you here again!” When he still doesn’t move she pulls the gun, holds it steady but keeps the safety on, “Now.” Her voice is dark and dangerous. Michael raises his hands, managing to look sarcastic as he does so.

“See ya around, honey.” She had forgotten how slimy he was, how misogynistic, for a fucking prosthetic Bucky doesn’t need or want. 

Artemis puts the gun back when she’s sure he’s gone and goes to the door, locking it and checking the locks several times before she finally goes upstairs.

 

~

 

Upstairs Bucky is passed out on his side, snuggled deeply into the comforter. Artie kneels next to the bed and brushes some hair out of his face before kissing his forehead. She knew she was lucky before but now she knows she’s the luckiest person in the world. “I love you,” she whispers even though he’s asleep and can’t hear her. Artie kisses him once more before going to take a shower, feeling gross and unclean after the conversation downstairs.

She scrubs herself for well over an hour until her skin aches and starts to feel raw. Then she wraps herself in one of Bucky’s t-shirts before slipping into bed behind him. She presses her arms around his body, content to be the big spoon for now, just needing to feel his warmth and presence. Artemis couldn’t tell Bucky what had happened. She couldn’t. What would he say? More importantly what would he _do_? She throws one leg over his hip and snuggles closer, forehead braced against his back. She sighs and tries not to cry but some tears slip out and fall onto the cotton of Bucky’s shirt. Artie could be brave in any situation but after the fact she’s always had trouble with pesky, welling emotions. She hiccups softly and tries to control herself but soon Bucky is stirring.

 She quiets and waits for him to settle back to sleep. No, she couldn’t tell him, wouldn’t tell him. It would just upset him. Artie doesn’t keep things from him though and so guilt starts to twist her gut. She gets out of bed again and starts pacing, even though she’s cold and tired and the bed is warm and safe and holds what is most precious to her. Artemis thinks maybe a nightcap will help and moves to the kitchenette when she notices something is hung on their fridge. The drawing is quite good and makes her smile. It’s very clearly Bucky and the little girl that often followed him around the café. Artie always smiled whenever she saw Sophie chattering at him about anything and everything, hot on his heels as he moved about the café. Sophie understood that he didn’t speak and also that he liked listening, about small childhood dramas and school and Ed’s odd habits.    

She thinks he’ll make a great father one day, if that’s something that he wants. “I spoke to her today,” Bucky says from her bed, startling Artie away from _that_ dangerous thought. “Why aren’t you in bed?” is the immediate follow-up question as though what he had said before wasn’t extraordinary.

“You spoke to Sophie?”

“And gave her a hug,” he says with a painful groan, massaging at his bad shoulder as he climbs out of bed, unable to sleep if Artie is there with him but not doing the same.

“Bucky!” she exclaims proudly as he draws nearer. “That’s-that’s-oh, my God!”

He chuckles and wraps his arm around her from behind so they can both look at the drawing. “Thanks, doll. Now why aren’t you in bed?”

“Y’know it’s really quite good, very realistic and considerate,” Artie taps at the small space between the two figures on the page. “She gave you short hair though.” Artemis reaches up behind her and blindly tugs at a piece of his long hair.

“Artistic liberties.”

She smiles, “I suppose so.” Artie wraps her hand around his wrist, Bucky’s arm still clamped across her stomach, “What made you talk to her?”

Bucky shrugs, “It was safe to do so.” Artemis wonders at that a little. That Bucky now had three people that were ‘safe’ to speak to. “She’s harmless.”

“Is that why you spoke to me?”

He thinks about it for a few seconds before kissing her neck, “No. Somethin’ about you was just trustworthy.” Bucky kisses the side of her head before pulling away, “Nightcap?”

“How did you guess?”

“You’re tense,” he frowns at her. “Are you okay? You’re usually dead tired.” He reaches out and swipes his thumb under one of her eyes, tracing the gray circle there. “In fact you are right now.”

“I’m okay. Just wanted a drink and noticed the drawing,” she considers it again as Bucky moves to grab the whiskey and a bottle of coke. “Maybe I could get Steve to do some art for me. Whatever he wants as long as it’s pretty.”

Bucky hands her a glass and looks at the virtually bare room, “Why haven’t you decorated?”

She takes a long swallow and screws her eyes shut when it burns. “Puttin’ down roots…it was hard. After what happened when we came home…and then what happened when we came here.” Artie shakes her head, “I never have felt fully settled anyways. Not since my dad died. Buying this café with Tommy...it was a huge risk because there was no guarantee I would be able to make myself stay. We used the hush money the government gave us.” Bucky leans into her, heart racing, suddenly unsure if anything here is worth enough to make her stay forever.

She leans back into him and smiles, sipping her drink before saying, “Good thing I met someone worth putting roots down for.”

Bucky suddenly feels settled himself. He plucks her drink out of her hand and sets it on the counter before wrapping his arm around her and kissing her gently. “I could do some art for you.”

“Could you?” She’s sounds surprised but happy that he’s offered.

“Oh yeah. I’ve been doing that art therapy crap with Steve for months now. I’ve gotten pretty good at it.” He nuzzles her cheek as he smiles.

“Do I detect a hint of pride?” Artie pinches his side and ducks away. “Mr. I’m-not-good-at-art-I-already-said-no?”

“Shut up,” he says affectionately, reaching out to her. “Shut up and come to bed. It’s hard to sleep without you.”

“Is that why you’re always here?”

He falters, “I don’t have to be-,”

“Buck?” He looks up, “ _Joking_.” He sighs out a breath and chases after her when she darts away, pouncing onto the bed and immediately collapsing. Bucky curls his body tight around hers, peppering kisses anywhere he can reach until she giggles and pushes him away.

When they’ve settled down Bucky remembers the distressed look on Artie’s face when he had first awoken. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks.

“Yes,” she lies, determined to keep Bucky safe.


	29. Remember When

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one is pretty long and also pretty angst-y. I would love to hear what you think about it. <3

“Are you both sure?” Steve asks as they walk through Central Park.

“Yes,” Bucky and Artemis answer together.

Sam had suggested a therapy dog to Bucky and Steve several days ago at a therapy appointment. Bucky is doing well and can go on trips outside by himself but he’s anxious and it nearly always results in a panic attack, or more often than not several panic attacks. Sam thinks he would do much better with an animal companion for the times Steve and Artemis can’t be with him. However, Bucky is refusing a service dog in lieu of a rescue dog. Steve’s apartment doesn’t allow for any animals except service animals. A rescue dog is not a service animal. So, Artie has agreed to keep it at her place as she has no landlord.

Steve heaves a deep sigh, “Buck, listen, I think it would be best if you got a trained service dog. Sam didn’t mean just _any_ dog. Those dogs aren’t trained to help you no matter how cute they are.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and clenches his fingers around Artie’s. “I know that, Stevie-,”

“And they aren’t allowed in most public spaces and they can’t go on the subway and-,”

“I _know_ -,”

“Okay,” Steve says, tired of being the voice of reason.

Artemis pulls them to a stop and makes Bucky look at her, “Whatever you decide is okay but Steve is right. An actual PTSD trained dog would be ideal.”

Bucky wrinkles his nose and looks away from the both of them, “Can we talk about it later?”

Artie and Steve share a look but nod before continuing down the path. Spring is apparently coming early just as winter had. Snow is melting, turning the world gray and slushy, bright green grass beginning to poke up through the stuff. And it's only mid-February, Valentine’s Day in fact which is why Bucky is more than a little frustrated with Steve.

Peggy is visiting family in England and so Steve is alone for the holiday. Artie had invited him out with them even as Bucky had pinched her ass as hard as he could behind the counter. Because dammit he’s finally gotten good enough at going out that he feels comfortable taking Artie out on a date and now Steve is here and they’re _sharing looks_ and talking about _dogs_. Bucky scowls and tries not to feel like an insolent child as Artie keeps chatting with Steve about his new job at the police station. Leave it to Steve to pick today to be a third wheel.

Bucky knows they’re right about the dog though. He does need one that’s trained to help him but he wants a friend and he’s afraid that a dog that’s already trained might not have any personality. Plus, he likes the idea of a rescue, even if he can’t take an emotional support dog everywhere like he could a service dog.

Bucky huffs out a breath in annoyance. It isn’t like the panic attacks are _that_ bad…he knows they aren’t _good_ , but still, it’s been worse. And he’s doing so well at managing that he feels he should be able to choose. Maybe he could do both, a rescue turned service dog? But he doesn’t even know if that’s a _thing_. Didn’t they have to be trained up from puppies? Bucky’s so deep in thought he doesn’t notice Artemis becoming more and more tense until, “Hello.”

“Oh hey guys! Funny seeing you here.” Michael is suddenly standing in front of them, blocking the path. Where the fuck had he come from? Artie is nearly crushing his fingers now, her smile fake. He frowns at her and pulls her slightly behind him, not liking the discomfort radiating off of her. Michael hadn’t been around much recently and Bucky thought maybe they had finally gotten rid of him. “Who’s this?” He turns to Steve and Bucky’s body suddenly goes very tense. Because here he is in the wide open world, this spacious park, and maybe this would be okay if it were just him but he’s defenseless, weaponless with a man who he does not trust at all, and two of his most treasured important people are also here and he can’t protect them.

Artie swallows thickly, “Uh, Steve this is Michael, Michael this is Steve, Bucky’s best friend.”

“Nice to meet you,” he says taking Steve’s hand which Bucky watches very carefully, ready to lunge at the man. “Artie and I were in the military together.” Bucky wants to punch him, strangle him, something, for saying her name. It’s precious and doesn’t belong in his mouth especially with the tone he’s using, both smug and a soft caress, making it sound dirty and used.  

If Steve or Artemis notice the inflection in his voice they don’t mention it. “Oh?” Steve says, his perpetual politeness coming through. Bucky, of course, has told Steve all about Michael. He could tell Steve had been slightly skeptical of his deep distrust of the man but he could see it in Steve now that he felt it too, the off-ness, the wrong-ness. Steve didn’t like him either, didn’t trust him.

“Basic training,” Artie corrects, her eyes narrowed. “We really have to be going we’re late for a reservation.” But Michael doesn’t move.

He keeps the smile on his face and says to Steve, “I’m sorry I missed you at New Year’s. I had another party to get to. I didn’t know she kept _so_ many military men around.”

Bucky watches Steve go stiff and then watches the way Michael’s eyes rove over Artemis, smirk on his face. He starts forward, seeing red but Artie tightens her grip on him and tugs, keeping him in place as best she can. “We really should be going,” Steve says, reaching out to take Michael’s hand again. Steve pulls the other man in for a half hug and when they pull away Michael is red from his forehead to his neck, his face scrunched and angry. “Nice to meet you.”

Steve herds them around Michael and down the sidewalk, “Cab, we’re going home right now.” His voice is low and furious. They hail a cab in record time, Steve glancing around, his shoulders tight, spine straight as he forces Bucky and then Artie in the cab ahead of him before climbing in and slamming the door. He gives the cabbie their address in Brooklyn and declines the invitation to sit in the front seat, the back rather squished. Bucky hasn’t seen Steve this tense and alert since…since…since before they came home.

They stay silent the whole ride to Brooklyn.

Once inside their apartment, the three of them occupying the small kitchen together, Steve turns and raises his eyebrows at Artie. “Wanna explain what the hell is going on?”

She fidgets and looks away and moves her hand when Bucky tries to take it. “I, uh, I, well the thing is-,” She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, “Nothing.”

Steve and Bucky stare at her in silence, mouths hanging open. “ _Nothing_? I don’t know what your definition of nothing is but that wasn’t it.”

Artemis just continues to pick at a loose thread in her sweater, refusing to meet their eyes. “Nothing,” she says again, shaking her head.

“Doll,” Bucky starts, “You can tell us.”

She clears her throat and then smiles brightly at them. The smile is false and makes Bucky a little anxious to see. She didn’t hide things from him but she is right now. “I got stuff to do so I’ll see you guys later-,”

Steve shakes his head, “No, you gotta stay here.”

“What, why?”

“To lay low. He knows where the café is.” Bucky’s gut clenches at those words. Michael is creepy and weird and clearly has a thing for Artie but he wouldn't hurt her would he? Bucky suddenly isn't sure anymore.  

She rolls her eyes and puts her coat back on, “I’ll see you later.”

“Artemis-,”

“You aren’t my keeper Steve,” she says sharply. “I’ll do as I please.”

She’s nearly to the door when Bucky finds his voice, “Doll-,” The door opens and then slams shut and she’s gone.

 

 ~

 

“Do you remember him?”

Tommy thinks on it a minute, lying back in bed next to Artemis who wasn’t used to sleeping alone anymore. She had ignored all of Steve’s calls which she knew to also be calls from Bucky who doesn’t yet have his own phone. “Am I supposed to?”

“No, he followed me around,” she says as Tommy scoops another bite of ice cream out of the bowl balanced on his chest. “Apparently you kept him away though.”

“Well why the hell is he so bold now? We’ve got me here, and Barnes and Rogers hanging around here all the time plus I’m sure you could take him yourself. Connor’s kinda scrappy so I mean there’s _that_ -,”   

“You know how some of those guys were. Didn't think we were anything but distractions and useless toys,” she says quietly. “He just happens to also be an obsessive psycho path. I think Steve scared him today though so-,”

Tommy points his spoon at her, “Why didn’t you tell ‘em?”

She sighs and sits up, frustrated, “God, because Bucky is just going to get worked up about it and he’s already so protective-,”

“That ain’t a bad thing-,”

“No, but I didn’t tell him about the other day and now…when he finds out that I kept something from him-,” A situation where she had pulled a gun on someone, had been threatened.

Tommy sits up too, setting his bowl on the bedside table. “You’re allowed to have secrets, Artie-,”

“Not about this stuff!” She rubs her eyes, furious with herself.

Tommy pulls her into his side, “Hey, c’mon now, none of that.” He rubs her back gently, comfortingly. Loud knocking begins below them. Tommy stops, “Did we lock Connor down there again?”

Artemis phone lights up as the banging stops. She holds it up to him and rolls her eyes, “No.”

 

 ~

 

Artie opens the café door to Bucky and Steve wrapped and bundled in winter clothes. “What?”

Steve rolls his eyes, annoyed beyond all belief at Bucky, “Goodbye!” He turns back to the motorcycle at the edge of the sidewalk. The engine roars loudly down the street as Artemis ushers Bucky inside who is shaking with cold. The temperature has dropped back below freezing, well below freezing in fact. 

“Goddammit Bucky,” she says, pressing her arms around him. “It’s fucking three degrees out and you come over here on a motorcycle? You already can’t stand the cold, you fucking idiot-,” Bucky knows that she’s pissed at him as she hardly ever cusses at him but he had to see her and she wasn’t answering the phone. She rubs at his sides roughly as she holds him, trying to warm him up but nothing is working, her body heat not enough.

The cold already made him more likely to panic and now she’s yelling at him. And it’s so cold and his bad shoulder is aching worse than it ever has and her words echo in his ears. There’s not enough air and his lungs hurt and fuck, _why does this happen to him?_ Artemis is quiet as she locks the door and tugs him up the steps. Bucky is shaking and not quite sure what’s going on, feeling lightheaded, his brain becoming murky and foggy. It’s been a while since he’s had one this bad and yeah maybe he shouldn’t have forced Steve to bring him over here on the back of a motorcycle when it's literally only about three degrees out but she wouldn’t answer the _fucking phone_.  

She shoves him none to gently into the bathroom and starts running water into the tub, only stoppering the drain when steam begins to rise. “Strip,” she commands, but he can’t make his body respond, everything too much, every sensation amplified and painful and _hurting and cold, needles, chains._

 _Soldier_? A calm masculine voice asks and Bucky knows he’s been bad, knows the voice will be angry soon. _That’s not what we wanted was it? You know how to behave? Strip him-_

Artemis darts away, comes back with a heavy blanket. “You idiot, you idiot, you idiot,” she’s whispering under her breath, her voice strained with worry now. “Oh, Bucky, c’mon, babydoll, come back to me.”

She’s pulling off his clothes, a coat, a shirt, another shirt, and then another, before her hands go to his pants. He grabs her roughly, stopping her movements. They took his clothes as punishment once. He wants to keep his clothes, it's so cold, maybe if he's good they'll let him-

 _Now, now, now, maybe next time you’ll do what we want, won’t you soldier? Bucky? Buck? Babydoll, you’re hurting me-_ The woman is staring at him, eyes calm and steady. He let’s go of her. No, the woman wouldn’t punish him. She’s sweet and kind and warm and maybe they have her now too but there aren’t any chains and the soldier is confused.

But he lets her shove his pants down which are momentarily stuck around his boots which get pulled off as well. Something heavy and warm goes around his shoulders. Blanket, maybe. Fleece, he identifies. She sheds her clothes down to her bra and underwear as well before lifting the blanket and tucking her body around Bucky’s, hoping the skin to skin contact and cocoon of the blanket will be enough to warm him up a little until the bath fills. 

Bucky’s eyes are distant and faraway and she knows he’s somewhere else entirely. And it’s all her fault but she can’t think about that now. She has to focus on helping him first. The bath is finally filled most of the way up and so she steps away from Bucky as a low whine escapes him at the loss of heat. He flinches away from her when she hooks her fingers into the waistband of his boxers and slides them down his thighs. “It’s okay, Buck, I’m not going to hurt you.” And the soldier believes her. Strange, he thinks. She guides him into the bath and curls the blanket around her own shoulders as she sits on the floor. “Lay back babydoll.”

The way he blindly follows the order breaks her heart. “It’s safe. You are safe.” She’s not sure if he can hear her or not but she continues to repeat the mantra, over and over, as he slips father down in the hot water. She notices he's lying very still but tries not to think about it too much. 

She stands after a few minutes when his breathing has stabilized and throws on one of his many layered shirts from the floor. She turns to go, planning to make tea and call Steve when, “Are you leaving?” His voice is broken and afraid.

“No, no, no, no.” She crouches back down and runs her hand over his hair. “No, hon, I was going to make you some tea. It’s warm. It’ll help.” He thinks nothing can ever be warm again as the woman starts to pull away again when he makes that wounded, low sound again.

“I’m sorry.” Sorry for not keeping her warm, sorry for not keeping her safe.

“Oh god, Buck, no. No. What for?” She shakes her head, “Don’t answer that. What do you need? I’ll stay right here with you but I think that tea will-,”

“Stay.” He grabs her arm, “Please, don’t go.” He runs his fingers over her skin, concern creasing his face. “You’re cold.” And she cannot be cold. She cannot feel this pain. “Get in.”

“What?”

“In,” he demands.

She stares, “Bucky-,”

“ _Now_.” She doesn’t move, doesn’t even flinch at his harsh voice.

“Bucky,” she says, firm but kind, and that doesn’t make sense with this room. Doesn’t reconcile with the ice bath and the concrete room. But this woman is kind. He knows that. She wouldn’t hurt him and so he won't let her be hurt and the cold hurts. The cold is the worst kind of hurt, stinging and painful and awful and Bucky can’t remember why he wanted her to get in the bath. Is he trying to hurt her? He makes himself meet her warm eyes and decides no, he will not do that.

“Bucky, listen to me, babydoll. I’m going to go make some tea. When I come back you can decide if you still want me in the bath with you and whatever you decide is what I’ll do.”

He glances at the door and hears the scrape of a lock, the slithering of a chain onto the floor. “You can open the door?”

“Yes,” her voice shakes a little. “I can open the door.”

He releases her arm and allows her to stand, trying to stay as still as possible, knowing fighting the cold of the ice won’t help. “Talk while you’re gone," he requests. He needs to know that she's near.

She leaves the door open and Bucky listens to her chatter, not sure what she’s saying but her voice is calm and smooth and so he relaxes, his muscles strangely languid. The concrete of the room melts away to reveal clean tile and fluffy bath towels. Steam begins to rise from the bath, the water hot and lovely. He closes his eyes, his body stops shaking.

“Bucky?” The woman is back. She holds a mug and instead of an herbal smell, a salty one wafts toward him. “I need you to drink this.” He doesn’t take it. It’s wrong. There should be two cups. One for him and one for the woman. Some deep-seated protective nature flares, one strengthened by years of caring for his sisters and looking after Steve and always, always, always having the backs of his squad.

He shakes his head, “You drink it.”

Her eyes water and her voice shakes which only makes Bucky sure that his decision is right. She needs the nutrition for her wildly distressed body, “Bucky please. I was just on the phone with Steve and he says you haven’t eaten today and I told him I had everything under control so please, baby, please, please drink this.”

He stares at her, her face suddenly familiar. Artemis. She comes back in flashes at first. Kind, small hands. Big, fierce personality. Fingers that worked knots out of his hair and his back and his shoulder. A smooth voice that reassures and never threatens. Sometimes she might yell but she always treated him as if precious, as if he’s important. Her lips taste like berries most times, but the first time they tasted like pumpkin pie and apple cider. And once….whisky, no, more than once she has tasted like whiskey. She loved whiskey, she-

“Half. You drink half and I’ll drink half.” He knows Artemis protects him too and so he knows now that he’ll have to drink some of it to assuage her guilt.

“Bucky, there is a whole kitchen of food-,”

“Half.”

“Fine.” She presses the mug toward him and bumps it against his lips. “Drink.” He opens his mouth, if a little grudgingly, and allows her to tip the broth into his mouth. He takes the mug from her and drinks deeply, not having realized how hungry he is. But he forces himself to stop when half is gone. Artemis shakes her head, “Drink all of it babydoll. I just had something to eat a little bit ago.” When he just keeps his hand extended toward her she says, “Please.” Her voice is a quiet plea. “I ate. I need you to drink.”

“What did you eat?”

“Bagel.”

She doesn’t appear to be lying and so he drinks the other half. Bucky’s fingers brush hers when he hands the cup back, ice cold. It shocks him, how cold her hand is. “Get in,” he says again. The water is hot and good, steam still rising, Bucky sweating a little. “Please,” he says when she hesitates, using that same pleading voice that she used on him.

“Scoot forward.” He does and she climbs in behind him, still clothed in his shirt and her underthings. Bucky isn’t embarrassed about his nakedness though he is a little worried about the scars on his body. She doesn’t seem to mind though as he leans back onto her, sharing his body heat as well. Bucky settles between her legs, his hand going to her knee and massaging lightly. He finally allows himself to relax. Let’s the panic and the anxiety and the echoes of old captors float away and only then does he realize what’s just happened. He closes his eyes. He's in New York City. He's home. Things are okay. 

But he’s exhausted and he knows that Artemis will still love him. Her fingers trace over the lines on his body, stroke soothing patterns onto his neck and chest and cheeks. Artemis doesn't say anything about the horrid scarring and he knows she'll probably kiss them later. She’s humming, a quiet, gentle tune. Maybe a lullaby. She rubs her wet fingers through his hair, dampening it. “I love you, Buck. Are you back?”

He winces but keeps his eyes closed. “I’m back.”

It’s quiet again for a long time as the bath cools. Artemis continues to pet Bucky, soothing him, as she knows that he craves touch after something like this happens. It hasn’t happened in so long, and definitely not this bad. He’s never had a panic attack and PTSD episode at the same time. His face rests against her chest, breathing even and slow, hand slack against her calf. Artie reaches forward and rests two fingers against the pulse point in his wrist, counting the beats. Normal. She needs to call Steve and let him know everything is okay. He had been distraught on the phone, ready to race back to the café but she had reassured him that everything would be fine. And so it is. Mostly. She knows they'll have to talk about it, about everything.

She also needs to get Bucky out of the bath as the water is starting to move toward cool. She nuzzles her face at his shoulder before gently shaking him awake. “C’mon, wanna go to bed?”

“You’ll come too?”

“’Course,” She makes Bucky sit up and gets out of the bath, not worried about the water dripping all over the floor. “C’mere,” she holds out a towel and tries not to stare at his naked body as he steps toward her and allows himself to be wrapped up. She leaves Bucky swaying on his feet momentarily to grab him some clothes, warm, thick clothes.

A few minutes later Bucky finds himself in her bed trying to stay awake until Artie is finished changing and talking on the phone. He won’t sleep until he knows she’s safe, until he can feel her. His old tormentors, captors had never felt closer than today. Eventually she does come to bed and Bucky curls his body around hers. “I’m so sorry you have to put up with me," he whispers, sleepy and drowsy.

She brings their linked fingers up to her mouth and kisses the back of his hand. “Me too, hon. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. You need to sleep now.” And Bucky can’t agree more.  


	30. Christmas And Team Management

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we have a bit of a Christmas flashback that I'm pretty excited about. Please do leave your thoughts. I love to hear from y'all. <3

*Christmas Day*

“Merry Christmas, babydoll,” Artie walks toward him, hips swaying, smile sweet and big. She’s wearing a bright red swing dress with black tights. Her feet are bare however from dancing with Steve a few minutes earlier. Bucky had passed her off and taken the opportunity to watch. He likes watching her move. She’s graceful and fast and light and it’s a wonder to watch, a privilege.

“Merry Christmas, doll.” He says as she plops down into his lap and winds her arms around his neck. “You look beautiful.”

She laughs and presses their foreheads together, “You’ve only said that about a million times tonight.”

“I’ll say it a million more times,” he says brushing their noses together and then capturing her lips while his hand runs up and down her back. “I love you. I’ll say that for as long as I can too.”

“Forever, forever,” she murmurs, fingers twisting in the sweater he’s wearing, the sweater she gifted him only a few hours earlier. A flash suddenly goes off and Artie jumps away from him. Bucky could kill Sam for startling her away like that but she darts to Sam’s side to see the picture he’s just taken of the two of them together all the same. The blush that spreads across her face tells him that it’s a good one.

“Send that to me would ya, Sam?”

“You got it.” Sam says, already in the process of doing it anyways. Bucky thinks Artie will come back to him but she flits away to say hello to a few people who have just walked into the café. Artie has again went out of her way to make sure everyone has a good holiday and so she’s thrown a Christmas Day party and invited anyone who has nowhere else to go.

There’s dancing and coffee and cake and cookies and eggnog and some kind of peppermint thing which Bucky has been sipping to ease his nerves. It’s warm inside and snow swirls in the street, the café lit with white fairy lights strung around the place and a colorful Christmas tree decorated mainly by Steve and Peggy in one corner. Red and green streamers flow from the ceiling while snowmen figurines and small Santas sit all around the café. Everyone is laughing and talking and calm, no tension to be found and so it’s almost the direct opposite of Thanksgiving. Except for Bucky whom is filled with a nervousness he wishes he didn’t feel, that has nothing to do with the party going on around him. He feels safe at the café, he knows the people and they know him and so it’s easier. They also seem to like him which Bucky is still trying to wrap his mind around and so he likes them as well.

Earlier, Steve, Peggy, Sharon, Sam, Tommy, Artie, and Bucky had exchanged presents privately before the party was due to start. It had been a whirlwind of gag gifts mixed with sweet, thoughtful presents. Bucky had mostly watched and only had to participate when Artie gave him his, Steve having already given Bucky his gift that morning (a new watch which Bucky didn’t need, Steve notoriously bad at gift giving).

Artie had set the box in his lap while everyone else continued talking and joking around, trying not to make Bucky anxious by throwing him into the spot light. He had peeled back the paper and opened the box to reveal three new sweaters, warm and thick and exactly what he needed, though he thinks she might have spent more money on them than he would like to think about. A space documentary (“You’re always reading about space so I thought you might like it.”), a new fiction book for them to read, and a small new painting print. She had ducked her head at that one whispering, “It’s my favorite and I thought you might like it too.” He murmured that he didn’t recognize this particular painting, though he knew the subject well. She had giggled, “You wouldn’t. I bought it from a street artist. Good though isn’t it?” It was of the Brooklyn Bridge and made him choke up a little.

And then of course came the mandatory gag gift of sparkly, butterfly laden hair ties, meant for small girls, but which Bucky liked anyways and in fact wore right now. He thinks Artie probably knew somehow that he would like them. Bucky had lost all confidence to give Artie her gift after opening her thoughtful one however and so he simply hadn’t, panicking when he imagined her rejection in front of their friends and the way it would break his heart besides. But he hadn’t missed the hurt expression that dashed across her face especially since she knew he had been looking for a gift to give her. But she didn’t mention it to him, in fact had only kissed his cheek and whispered ‘Merry Christmas, Buck’, which only made him feel guiltier.

Now, Steve and Peggy sit down at his table as Steve jabs him in the side. “Why didn’t you give it to her?” He holds Peggy’s hand who frowns at Bucky and then glances back at Steve.

“I thought we missed a gift but I wasn’t sure. I thought maybe you already gave her something before we got here,” she says, glancing between the two of them. Bucky fists his hand on his knee and looks away from them. He doesn’t need to be reprimanded, he knows he fucked up, that he should have gotten her something else.

Steve shakes his head, “Nope, he chickened out.” Bucky glares at him and bounces his leg as he watches Artemis gift Connor a bottle of expensive wine across the room. He’s sure she’ll hate it. He knows she will. Why he had even thought it was a good gift is beyond him. “Buck.” He looks back to Steve who levels him with a stare and says, “Just give it to her.” Steve of course knows what it is, had helped him secure it.

“What did you get her?” Peggy asks Bucky and looks to Steve for the answer.

Steve shakes his head, “Sorry, can’t tell ya.”

“And why not?” Peggy sounds both affronted and curious.

“Artie’s gotta get it first,” Steve says pointedly. “Now c’mon, Peg, let’s dance and leave Bucky to sulk.” Bucky just scowls at his friends as they stand and twirl away from his table.

Bucky isn’t alone but for two seconds when Sophie shows up at his table. He’s still getting used to the little girl but he likes her. “Hello Buckaroo!”

He manages to smile at her despite the anxiety eating a hole in his belly. Maybe he _should_ give it to her. His hoodie pocket suddenly feels very heavy with the weight of the small box inside it. “I like your hair ties,” Sophie says pointing to his hair which he had asked Artie to put into a bun earlier with the new ties she gave him. Sam had laughed and taken a picture but he hadn’t minded. “Miss. Artie said she got ‘em for you. I said that that’s about the best present in the world.” She wiggles in her seat excitedly when Bucky pulls the pack out of the pocket of his jeans. He had stuffed them in there earlier for this exact reason, just having a feeling about it. He allows her to choose one to keep for herself and watches as she carefully pulls the band up her skinny arm to her elbow.

Sophie sits forward on her knees and leans her elbows on the table, examining Bucky. “I asked Miss. Artie what you got her and she said, ‘all his fierce love’. I said ‘that means he didn’t get you anything’ and she just laughed but it sounded kinda sad.” She wiggles in her seat again as Bucky’s gut swoops, “I have something for you.” Bucky furrows his brows as guilt eats at him again. “Hold out your hand and close your eyes.” He does so and waits as something delicate is dropped into his hand. A small flower sits there when he opens his eyes. “Give it to Artie if you don’t like it. But I think you should know that I do a lotta work to keep my flowers alive in the winter.” She leans forward, “They go through an awful lot but they always come out of it okay in the end.”

And with that she scoots off the chair and dashes away, easily maneuvering the crowd. Bucky stares at the sun yellow buttercup in the palm of his hand, a miracle in itself. He suddenly makes a decision, carefully standing and moving through the room until he finds Artemis listening to some old guys who are hooting and hollering and who all smell like a bar. One glances him and says, “Your shadow’s here, kid.”

Artie turns, “Buck?”

He tilts his head back, silently asking her to follow him. She nods, “Excuse me guys.” They make a fuss for a few minutes before allowing her to leave, some still shouting after her as they walk away.

“Upstairs,” he whispers to her. Artie smiles and nods, allowing him to take the lead.

Once inside her apartment he paces a few steps back and forth as he listens to the crowd downstairs before cautiously depositing Sophie’s flower on the counter. “Bucky?” He stops and looks at her nervous form, fingers threaded together over her stomach, feet tapping nervously as she observes the flower and before turning her gaze back to him. “Are you okay?”

“I wanna give you your gift.” He steps forward and takes her hand before leading her to sit at the edge of the bed. She sits cross-legged and adjusts her dress over her legs before facing him. Bucky stays sitting at the edge of the bed as Artie positively squirms with happy anticipation. He pulls the wide, flat box out of the pocket of his hoodie, and presses it into her waiting hands. He keeps his over top of hers for a moment, holding her as she holds the box.

“Why’re you so nervous, babydoll?” She asks, frowning just a bit.

Bucky doesn’t want to frighten her so he pats Artie’s hands and pulls away, trying to force down the worry he feels, “Open it.”

She kisses his cheek lightly and then tears the silver paper dotted with red stars off the box to reveal smooth black velvet. Artemis looks at him and grins as she pries the silver clasp open, “It better not be something real gaudy Barnes or I’m just gonna feel like you don’t know me…at all…” Her voice trails off and stops as she looks down at the box. Bucky has the sudden urge to grab the thing and fling it out the window, nausea welling up in him so fast he feels lightheaded.

“Bucky…” Nestled into the velvet interior of the box sits two plain silver tags. They’re banged up and dented but whole and definitely his. His real dog tags, the ones he wore while overseas. “Oh, Buck,” she whispers, picking them up delicately, so tenderly you’d think they might crumble in her grasp. “Are these-?” she starts to ask even though she already knows.   

“Yes.” He swallows thickly, unsure how to read her reaction. “You…you don’t gotta wear ‘em or nothin’. I just…I just want you to have ‘em.” She just stares at the dog tags in her hands, mouth open in shock, and suddenly Bucky can’t stop talking. “I didn’t know what to get ya and then I started thinkin’ on…promise rings? Yeah, promise rings. Guys give them to their girls. Sometimes to show loyalty or commitment but mostly they can mean whatever ya want,” he says, nervously reciting what he read online.

“And I know you know I’m loyal but it felt important right until I remembered ya don’t _wear_ jewelry. And so then I remembered my tags and it just felt _right_. But my tags were gone. I know I didn’t have ‘em while I was captured and I so was gonna get you some made special but then Steve actually had mine, my real ones, cause they got ripped off when I was taken, right before I got shot, and he had ‘em this whole time. He found them on the ground after and-,”

He’s talking a mile a minute so she flings her arms around his neck and interrupts him, “Of course I’ll wear them.” Artemis pulls away just enough to slip them over her head. “I’ll never take them off,” she says quietly.

Bucky swallows thickly, still worried she might just be humoring him, and pulls her close, “They seemed more our style but I…you don’t have to wear them. I know it’s sorta morbid. With what happened and all.” He tightens his arm around her, “I know you deserve better, more, and that’s why I didn’t give it to you earlier when your gift was so thought-,”

She pushes him back onto the bed, hands going to either side of his face, “What are you promising?”

He stops chattering, “What?”

“You said this is our promise ring. What are you promising?” She drags her hands down his neck and across his shoulders, soothing him. “Hmm?” Artie is happy, so, so, so happy, that he felt sure enough, close enough, love and loved enough, trusted her enough to give her something as thoughtful and important as this. Maybe a little morbid, but sweet and exactly _them_.

Bucky pulls back and looks into her eyes, “I promise to protect you and love you and I promise to always be yours.” He picks up the tags from where they’ve fallen between their bodies, chain still around Artie’s neck, and kisses them gently. “I promise to do my best to make you happy.”

She repeats the words back to him sounding reverent, almost like she was reciting a prayer before pressing her hand over his heart. “Merry Christmas, Bucky. I love you more than you’ll ever know.” She kisses him tenderly before she says, “Thank you.”

“I think you might be the better gift-giver,” he says as she peppers him with kisses, any part of him that she can reach.

She bites his lower lip in reprimand, “No.”

“No?”

“No gift will ever be better,” she murmurs against him as his hand strokes her back and her sides and shoulders.

“That’s setting the bar pretty high for every Christmas after this,” he jokes and she smiles. Because Bucky is thinking about not only having more Christmases but also more with her.  

She kisses him on the mouth again as he pushes his hand through her hair. Artemis takes his hand and fists it around the tags before wrapping her hands around his, “I’ll keep them safe for you,” she whispers before brushing her lips across his knuckles.  

He feels happiness welling in his chest. He smiles wide, “They’ll keep you safe. Nothin’ bad happened to me ‘til after they came off.”

 

~

 

Bucky jerks awake in bed before flopping back down onto the mattress. His head hurts and so does his eyes and so does….come to think of it all of him hurts. God, if he could just live in that Christmas. Live in that moment. Light and happy and sure.

Artie stands at the stove across the room watching him. Something pops and crackles in the pan before he recognizes the smell, bacon and eggs. Toast and coffee and jam. “Okay?” She asks. She’s wearing a shirt of his and some of her own sweatpants. Her hair hangs loose and messy, circles depressed under her eyes. Bucky thinks she’s never looked more beautiful, though he wishes the circles weren’t there.

“I’m okay,” he says squeezing his eyes shut. “What’s with breakfast? Shouldn’t you be downstairs? What time is it? Where-,” God, he’s ruining her life, making her put everything on hold for him. If he was a good man he would let her go but he loves her and he’s selfish.  

The stove burners click off. Pans are covered in tin foil and then shoved in the oven. “I’m takin’ a day to be with you, babydoll. And you need a recovery breakfast so that’s what you’ll get.” Her footsteps draw near so Bucky opens his eyes as she leans down to give him a kiss. “Comfort food is what I make best. And to answer your last question its late morning,” she says, starting to pull away. He reaches up to cup her neck and drag his fingers under the collar of her shirt. The chain is still there and so he pulls on it to see his tags hanging from her neck. His girl. Relief spreads through him. Why he thought they might not be there he isn’t sure.

“God, I’m sorry Artemis.” He shakes his head, “What I was thinking last night…I-I dunno- It felt so fucking real.” He shoots upright in bed suddenly, Artemis just able to pull away to not get hit in the head. “I didn’t recognize you,” there’s pure horror and terror in his voice. “I didn’t know you.” His eyes drift to her arms, bruised. Big, ugly purple splotches around her wrists. “Fuck.”

“Don’t do that. It was my fault.”

“ _Your_ _fault_?” He stares at her in disbelief, “How could it have been your fault?” Bucky takes one of her wrists gently. “Doll…there’s-there’s not an excuse for-,” He vaguely remembers grabbing her, being momentarily convinced that she was a threat and trying to hurt him.

“Normally I would agree. But babydoll, this isn’t your fault. And Buck you might have forgotten me for a second but you remembered and that’s all that matters.” She lifts her hand to drag across his cheek, “Stevie’s gonna be by later so we should probably eat.”

He catches at her hand, “Wait.” He pulls her down onto his chest. “Talk to me first.”

“’Bout what?”

“About what’s been goin’ on. About Michael.”

She makes a noise of discontent but agrees, “Okay. Breakfast in bed though.” Artemis pulls back and strokes her fingers through his hair. “You are so precious to me, babydoll. I need you to know that.”

Artie sits up and pulls Bucky with her, wrapping her arms around his neck, holding him tight. “I’m here, doll,” he soothes her.  

“I know.”

 

~

 

Artie makes Bucky eat first. Two whole plates of fried eggs and bacon and toast with butter and a swirl of strawberry jam. Coffee with milk and sugar and some pastries that she stole from downstairs. For a moment it feels like before he was released from the hospital just with a bigger bed and more privacy. But then she looks at him and says, “Let’s talk,” and his gut clenches painfully. Her eyes are sad and guilty and Bucky knows he isn’t going to like what he hears.

 

~

 

He hates that he’s right. Artie moved away from him a while ago and has been stress baking at the kitchenette. She hates baking and only ever did so with Tommy because he likes to or when she had to and so Bucky knows she’s upset and punishing herself.

He gets up slowly and goes to the bathroom, trying to control the rage he feels. _Michael_. Fucking Michael. And Artemis…Artemis hadn’t told him, thought him too fragile and imbalanced to tell him about it and the only thing he did last night was prove it. No wonder she didn’t tell him jack shit. Bucky sighs and hits the wall next to the sink gently. Maybe he’s deluding everyone around him. Maybe he’s just as bad as he’s always been. In that case he can’t really blame her for not telling him about it. He had come into their domain and threatened Artie, made her feel afraid in her safe place and Bucky had fucking slept through it. Bucky opens the bathroom door and leans against the jamb, watching Artemis furiously mixing a bowl of batter.

When he can’t watch her anymore he strides across the room and wraps his arm around her. “Stop it.” Bucky pulls away and takes the bowl from her, setting it firmly on the counter. “Stop, sweetheart, stop.”

“Are you mad?” Her voice is choked with emotions.

He decides not to lie, “Yes.”

“At me?”

“Yes.” And he is but he can’t stay mad. He just has to make sure she knows that he's strong enough to take it, that they can do anything together, “But mostly that prick and myself.” He turns her toward him and crushes her body to his. “I’m sorry that you don’t trust me enough-,”

“That’s not it at all.” She nuzzles his cheek, “I trust you. I’m worried I’ll hurt you. And remember what I said? You are so precious to me.”

“But _Artie_ , doll, we’re a team okay? It ain’t supposed to be all you all the time.” He pulls away from her to tuck some hair behind her ear and look into her face. “You have to let me in too.”

“I know. But its-,”

“Hard. I know. It gets easier. I’ve had a lot of practice and a good listener.” He kisses her softly and slowly, trying to put all the love he feels for her behind the kiss. “Let me help you too. I know you aren’t used to it-,”

“Yes.”

“Yes?” She nods against his neck in response. “Okay. And let me kill Michael.”

She pulls away and slaps his chest gently, giving him a small smile, “Bucky!”

“At least ruff him up a bit.”

“Maybe.”

“Me _and_ Steve.”

“Definitely not.”

Bucky laughs and kisses her again, “Look he’s a hateful little asshole and he threatened my girl so I gotta-,”

“He didn’t _threaten_ -,”

Bucky growls and pulls her tighter against his chest, “He _did_. He continues to do so. But not for much longer.”

Artie just sighs but settles in his arms at peace once more.


	31. Lady

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading lovelies :*

“It’s gross.”

“I think so.”

“I mean they never stop-,”

“Honestly the most touchy feely couple that I know-,”

“Would you two stop?” Artie whips around and scowls at Steve and Peggy who are following behind herself and Bucky. They haven’t let up on them since they left the café and they’ve been walking for a good ten minutes now. They both just grin in response to Artie’s standoffish-ness. Bucky chuckles next to her and pulls her closer to his side, their hands linked together.

Steve had mentioned that they always seemed to be touching in one way or the other, and if they weren’t they stood very close together and seemed like they were in pain for not being able to touch. Peggy had then agreed which spurred on this teasing currently going on.

“I mean _we_ never touch that much-,”

Artie rolls her eyes and does her best to tune them out. Their teasing doesn’t bother her but she does worry it’ll embarrass Bucky into not touching her anymore. But Bucky suddenly stops, pulls her close, and dips her low. She lets out a little shriek before his lips land on hers. Steve and Peggy look shocked when he pulls away and starts walking nonchalantly away with Artie, hands linked back together. “That’ll shut them up for a while, doll,” he whispers lowly in her ear before dipping his tongue there. She squeals and pulls away as she’s overcome with laughter. He just pulls her back, “They’ll be jealous as all hell before we get there.”

And so they continue with the lovey, overly dramatic PDA as they walk down the street. Bucky manages to look doe-eyed and love-struck while still menacing and large enough to keep salespeople from trying to solicit them on the street. And Bucky is getting large, not bulky, not yet, and still thin enough to be considered lean, but a far cry from the skin and bones he was when they met.

Of course Bucky’s intimidating stature is rather put off by how much he’s giggling with the pretty girl by his side and by the pink sparkly hair tie decorated with stars and rainbows keeping his hair in a bun. The hair tie is a gift from Sophie who adores the butterfly ones and thought he should add more to his collection. Bucky couldn’t agree more.

They’re going to pick up Bucky’s dog. He had agreed to get an actual service dog and had met her a few days ago but now it’s time to bring her home. He’s excited about it both because the dog is adorable and helpful but also because he finally feels like things are coming together. For him and for Artie. At least when Michael isn't around.

“What breed is it?” Peggy asks when Bucky finishes kissing Artie again, just because he can and also because Steve and Peggy are starting to get annoyed with them. “And you know people generally stop being so lovey after the first two months.”

Artie turns back, her lips swollen, eyes dazed. How Bucky managed to kiss her so well and walk and not run into anything at the same time is a mystery. “She's a Canaan Dog,” She says. Then sasses Peggy, “And you two haven't.”

“Yes, but we’re soul mates,” Peggy says dramatically as Steve blushes and squeezes her to his side.

“So are we,” Artie says matter-of-factly as Bucky nods along in agreement, bright and happy at her response. Steve and Peggy roll their eyes as they arrive at the shelter and Bucky practically vibrates with excitement.

Artie remembers when they had come here few days ago, just the two of them, to look for one. It had taken hours and hours, wandering around and listening to Kelly talk about each dog, her voice bubbly and high pitched. Bucky had largely ignored her and went where he pleased, none of the dogs catching his eye or making a “connection” with him. Kelly said this was important when choosing a service dog as they were more akin to listen to their handler that way. Artie hadn’t missed how Bucky’s back had stiffened at the word handler. She had spread her fingers on his lower back and rubbed circles there until he had relaxed and moved away again, examining another dog.

So Artie had been left to listen to Kelly alone when she noticed Bucky crouching longer than usual in front of one of the kennels. The dog was large and a whitish, yellow, its tail a fluffy curl. Its eyes dark and intelligent, ears pointed and alert. Bucky had looked back at her and she had known.

“What about that one, Kelly?”

Kelly had spun around and examined the dog with wonder, “Well we were actually having a bit of trouble with her but she’s come around nicely. She’s a rescue you know and she hadn’t been treated the best, a bit worse than most we see I’d say, but her temperament has improved loads. She’s a Canaan Dog which are pretty rare. But she never really let many people close to her…she has a strong protective nature...” Kelly’s excited voice had trailed off as she watched the dog lick Bucky’s fingers through the bars. “Well now would you look at that? That’s a connection if I’ve ever seen one.”

“Are they well suited to apartment living?”

“Oh yes! Just because a dog is large doesn’t mean they aren’t suited to small apartments. And vice-verse with small dogs. She’s a dog that will require exercise however.” Artie had nodded and turned back to Bucky who was giving her a meaningful look. “Could he see her? What’s her name?”

“Lady,” Kelly had said and opened the gate and that had been that.

Now Artie and Bucky alongside Steve and Peggy make their way across the foyer to the front desk, which Kelly happens to be manning. “Hello, Kell!”

“Hi, Artie!” She says, “Who’re your friends?” Artemis had spent a lot of time over the last few days texting Kelly about Lady. She introduces Steve and Peggy who shake Kelly’s hand before the she turns to Bucky, “She’s really missed you, you know. Hasn’t hardly quit crying since you left the other day.” Bucky looks a bit anxious upon hearing this so Kelly says, “Don’t worry about it too much she’s just got separation anxiety especially now since she sees you as her handler.”

Bucky manages not to react to the word handler despite his aversion to it. “Can we see her?” Artie asks for him but also sounding excited herself. Kelly nods and grins before motioning them to follow her. Artie steps back from Bucky to walk next to Steve and Peggy. Bucky glances back at her, a frown on his face, but she just shoos him forward. Artemis thinks maybe Bucky should meet with his dog one on one.

“She’s really sweet,” Artie says to the couple beside her. “Really gentle and nice but Kell tells us she has a protective streak a mile wide and is highly distrustful of strangers so her training is a work in progress. Sound like anyone you know?” She grins and then continues, “She’s a rare breed and they found her with a group of animal smugglers…that hadn’t exactly treated her right.”

Steve frowns as Peggy shakes her head, “Well she has Bucky now.”

Artie rolls her eyes and loops her arm through Peggy’s, “Oh you shoulda seen it Peggy! It was insta-love! I was disgusted by the cuteness.”

“Now you know how we feel.”

“Hush,” Artie says, grinning at her friend. “Lady’s gonna take my place I just know it. I’ll be sleeping in my own bathtub in no time.”

Bucky turns and glares at her, having been eavesdropping on their conversation. They finally make it back to the kennels and Artemis, Steve, and Peggy pause at the door. Bucky makes his way carefully over to Lady’s gate where the high pitched whining that had filled the room suddenly stops and is replaced with happy little sounds, almost like a cat’s purr. If Steve and Peggy had needed evidence that Lady is in love with Bucky this was it. Kelly beams as she unlocks the gate for Bucky. Lady is well trained however and waits for her handler to call her.

“Here,” Bucky says very quietly as he crouches down, and the dog pads forward to happily lick at Bucky’s fingers. Artie makes a soft ‘aww’ sound which makes Lady’s attention snap to her and wag her tail, recognizing Artie as well. But her soft, purr-like noises turn to growls when she notices Steve and Peggy.

Kelly sighs, “And here lies the issue. She’s very suspicious which really is a bad quality in a service dog. If everything is a threat to her it won’t help the handler.”

Bucky just shushes the animal gently, “It’s okay Lady. These are friends.” He rubs the fluffy hair behind her ears gently, a small smile on his face. Artie thinks maybe Lady is already helping Bucky who is speaking in front of Kelly whom he had only met once before a few days ago. Maybe the suspicion won’t be that much of a problem. Lady stops growling at the sound of Bucky’s calming voice and starts wagging her tail tentatively again. He scratches behind her ears again and then motions them over.

Kelly leaves them alone with Lady to get the paperwork in order. Lady carefully sniffs at Steve and Peggy for a few minutes before deciding that they’re trustworthy and allowing them to pet her. She moves back to Bucky quite quickly however who has sat on the floor and is smiling affectionately. Lady sits carefully next to Bucky, ears perky and alert, as she resumes making the happy, content noises.

“I think you’re right Artemis. She is in love,” Peggy says with a smile.

“I told you. I better just start packing up now,” Artie sits on the floor as well, not too close to Lady or Bucky, as Steve wanders off looking at the other dogs. Lady stops the noises again and stretches out between the two of them horizontally. She rests her head on Bucky’s knee while wiggling her bum back until it hits Artie’s thigh and then she closes her eyes and huffs out a little breath.   

Peggy laughs again, “I think she might be in love with both of you.”

Artie runs her hands over Lady’s sleek coat and meets Bucky’s eyes, who has been gazing at her. “We’ll both be in the bathtub.”

Bucky nods and pets Lady’s head gently who closes her eyes in contentment and then promptly jumps to attention when the door opens and reveals Kelly. “All ready?”

 

~

 

A few hours later after figuring out the paper work the four of them go out to eat at a small restaurant nearby. Lady sits like a proud statue at Bucky’s feet, watchful and vigilant. But Artie notices she hasn’t growled at anyone, only sits and does her job as she was trained to do. Monitoring, comforting, and warning. She had seemed uncomfortable in the service dog vest and so Bucky had taken it off of her. He rubs behind her ears every so often and Artie thinks it’s both to calm himself and the dog in the crowded, noisy restaurant. But they both seem to be doing well.

Steve and Peggy are bickering lowly about something when Bucky’s hand lands on Artie’s thigh under the table. She jumps and then settles as his hand rubs circles into her inner thigh moving slowly higher. Artie looks over at Bucky who is stoic as a stone, glancing around the room. She squirms in her seat, the slow, sensual movement of his thumb driving her insane. High and higher and she suddenly wishes that she wore skirts-

“What did you two do on Valentine’s Day?” Peggy asks and Bucky immediately takes his hand away, his expression guilty. Fucking Valentine’s Day.

“Oh, I’ve had better,” Artie tries to joke but Bucky’s face drains of all color and Lady gives a low whine, sensing the distress. He shifts so that Artie can’t see his face and concentrates on Lady and giving her attention. He does begin to calm down. That easy, he thinks bitterly. But he's glad for Lady all the same. 

Artie remembers Bucky’s shaking form in her bathtub and the way he couldn’t remember her, and Michael’s face at the park and adds, lamely, “We’ll do better next year.”   

Bucky doesn’t look at her.

 

~

 

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Bucky scrubs at the counter harder, “No.” His voice is harsh and Lady whines. “Sorry, baby,” he coos down at her. She wiggles on the floor and then settles.

“Okay,” Artie says and turns away. He didn’t want to talk about Valentine’s Day or about how Michael had come into the café toady to look for Artie while they were out with Steve and Peggy. So, naturally Bucky had refused to leave with Steve. Artie almost wants to ask him to move in, he’s there so much anyways, more than he is at Steve’s lately. But it’s probably too early to do that.

She’s made it maybe two feet when, “Artie, just-just give me a second okay?”

“Okay, babydoll.” They finish with the café and then go upstairs to sit at the bar and drink some wine. Artie pours the red stuff into mugs before turning to Bucky who’s now smiling. “What?” She asks as Lady stakes out a place to sleep on a pile of blankets by the door.

“Drinking wine out of mugs. It’s such an Artie thing to do,” he kisses her cheek affectionately. “It’s cute.”

Artie laughs, “It’s trashy and uncultured but thanks.” She reaches over to cup one hand around his neck and stroke his cheek with her thumb, “Talk to me, huh?”

“I’m sorry I ruined Valentine’s Day.”

She stares at him, mouth hanging open, “That’s what you’re worried about? Babydoll, I don’t care about that. I don’t. It’s just a dumb holiday, honest.”

He shakes his head and takes her hand away from his neck, “You deserve so much better than me.”

“When will you stop that?” She leans forward, “You are perfect. If I had just been honest with you we could have avoided the whole thing. You are perfect and you are mine. I don’t want anybody else.”

Bucky’s staring at her, eyes drifting to her lips, “Kiss me.”

“I thought we were talkin’-,” he presses forward and kisses her, things heating up quickly. He kisses her deeply and fiercely, passionate and full. Bucky can’t explain it but he suddenly needs her, needs to feel her, taste her. Michael was to blame really and they were both blaming themselves. And Michael can’t fucking win. He loves Artie and he won’t let Michael drive a wedge between them. Never.  

“C’mere doll,” he pulls her up and snakes his arm around her waist. “I-I want you, Artemis. I want you.”

“Then take me, babydoll.” His eyes darken with lust as they back toward the bed.


	32. Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooooo, this is all pretty much smut. But if you aren't into that you can skip this one and wait for the next chapter as it doesn't lend much to the story. Anyways, this is my first attempt at writing prolonged smut so I would really like some feedback as I'm super nervous about posting this. Please do let me know what I could do differently or better. Thanks so much for reading! I hope you guys like it!

Her hands trail under his shirt, lifting the hem just slightly as the backs of his knees hit the bed. Bucky’s hand immediately comes down and stops her. Artie pulls away from his lips, apology already forming. He wants this dammit why did he stop her? Bucky clenches his jaw and curses himself as he takes her in. Skin flushed and beautiful, lips swollen and raw pink, eyes wild and full of desire from minutes of heated kissing. He let’s go of her wrist as rejection fills her eyes.

He presses his hand to her cheek and leans his forehead against hers, “No, doll, no, it ain’t you. It isn’t, I promise it isn’t.”

“You need more time we shouldn’t-,” She starts to pull away, feeling foolish.

He moves his hand down to her hip and grips it tight, “No, I don’t. I don’t. I’m just…I’m not…exactly…” He lowers his eyes and tries to kiss her again but she shifts away.

“Are you afraid of me seeing you?”

Bucky knows there isn’t any use in denying it and so he doesn’t. “I’m not exactly whole, Artie.”

“You think I am? You’ve seen me, hon. And I’ve seen you.” He knows she has but he wasn’t really aware of it and now he is so it’s _different_ and- Then she giggles and wraps her arms tight around him, mouth moving to his neck to place open mouthed kisses there and Bucky tilts his head back to give her better access. She pulls away and licks the hollow at the base of his throat, tongue pressed flat and moved upwards all the way to his chin. Bucky groans and grips her tighter because goddammit she’s giggling the entire time she makes him think filthy things, of that tongue somewhere else. “I’m not nothin’ to look at myself.” She sucks a few more burning kisses along his neck before suddenly biting down harshly near his collarbone, the sensation goes right to his cock and he groans.

Her voice is sultry and honey sweet as she whispers, whine in her voice, “I wanna touch you, Buck. I wanna kiss every part of you. Please, babydoll, let me see you.” She pulls back and looks into his eyes, hers hooded with desire, “I wanna bite you babydoll. You like it when I bite you huh?” Her hand drifts down between them and she palms him through his jeans, already hard. “I _know_ you do.”

Artie’s fingers dance over the hem of his shirt again and this time he can’t bring himself to stop her. He helps her pull it over his head and then he’s bare to her. He looks away from her, not wanting to see her reaction to his scars and his destroyed shoulder. Bucky waits. Waits for the gasp of horror, the push away, the disgust. All he gets is silence. Then, “Look at me.” He doesn’t, afraid of the revulsion and rejection that he knows is waiting for him. _She’s already seen_ , some part of him tries to remind him. “Please, Buck.”

But he can’t say no to that soft, sweet voice and so he looks at her. He meets her eyes and all he finds in them is adoration and love, most of all he finds acceptance. “Babydoll, you’re beautiful. I don’t know what I ever did to make you think I’m shallow. But it doesn’t matter to me.” He laughs softly as her eyes drift down over his body again, “Can I touch you?”

“Yes,” he breathes out, “yes, sweetheart, please.”

“Will it hurt if I do?”

“Not if you’re gentle,” he whispers to her and she’s always gentle with him. She presses her hand to his neck, thumb sweeping over his jaw as she gives him the softest, sweetest kiss contrasting wildly with the way her other hand is rubbing him roughly through his jeans.

She moves both her hands to his hips then and looks into his eyes. Bucky melts as she asks, “Can ya lie down for me?”

Bucky does, trusting her completely. He remembers vaguely that he used to be the dominant one and that the old Bucky would have never allowed someone else this much control in the bedroom but he isn’t the old Bucky anymore and he _likes_ it and its Artie besides. He’d do anything she asked. So, he lies back and she sits next to him propped up on one hand on his right side. Her other hand very gently brushes along his chest, fingers drifting softly over the scars, tracing and outlining them. “So, pretty,” she whispers and then lowers herself onto her elbows before pressing soft kisses along the destroyed flesh of his shoulder, mapping the scars left all over his body with her soft, sweet mouth. His muscles tense up as she bites him here and there, leaving small red marks all along his body.

She moves until she’s straddling his hips, mouth never leaving his skin, barely fluttering kisses along his suddenly overly sensitive skin. “Sweetheart, quit teasin’ me,” he begs her. He feels her mouth stop moving, still hovering over a scar on his right peck. His hand goes to her back, moving underneath her shirt to press against warm flesh, push her mouth to his. But she remains unmovable and he can feel her eyelashes against his skin as she blinks when she unexpectedly gives a violent roll of her hips against his.

He groans his entire being suddenly aware of the pressure in his pants and he’s immediately begging. “God sweetheart, please, you’re torturin’ me here.” She sits up, knees still braced on either side of him, throws her head back and laughs, loud and happy and large. She leans back down and kisses his lips, hand caressing his jaw, still giggling.

He tries to follow her lips when she pulls away and she laughs again, “I want you to see me.” She looks into his eyes, suddenly self-conscious, “You wanna see me?”

“Yes,” he sits up so she’s in his lap sitting a little bit above him. He trails his fingers along the hem of her shirt then tugs upwards, leaving her in just her bra as he twists the fabric from her body. For a moment he just looks at her, beautiful and _his_. He stares so long in fact without touching her or saying anything that her arms drift up to cover her stomach and chest self-consciously.

“No, doll, you’re perfect,” he pulls her hand away from her belly.

He cradles her back gently with his hand when he releases her hand and moves his mouth gently to her neck, kissing carefully further down. When he presses a soft kiss to her breastbone her breath hitches and she lets out a soft, intoxicating moan. Bucky drifts his hand up her back, rubbing gently at her scars for a moment, and unclasps her bra, letting the plain black thing fall away. She shivers, her whole body vibrating with anticipation.

He leans away from her to take her in again. Her body flushed and waiting. “Now who’s teasin’?” She accuses, “and making me self-conscious at the same time?”

Artie’s face is slowly going red with embarrassment. “I’m just lookin’ at how gorgeous my girl is.” He leans forward and lowers his mouth to take her nipple, sucking gently before biting down unexpectedly and reveling in her startled but pleasured yelp. He swirls his tongue around the bud then sucks harshly at the already swollen, sensitive area as his hand comes up to pluck at her other breast, rolling and tugging gently until both are hardened. She gasps and whimpers, “Bucky-,”

He leans up and presses his mouth against her ear, “You like my mouth on you baby?” She pushes her hands into his hair, tugging roughly making Bucky moan and hold her tighter.

She gives a violent shiver. “Now.” She demands, guiding his head back down to her chest, eyes rolled back in pleasure when he finally does. He laughs against her as begins his soft assault on her again. Artemis arches into him, back curving as she lets out a soft keening moan.

When both nipples are hardened peaks Bucky pulls away and leans back, taking Artie with him. She starts to reach for him but he flips them so she’s lying on her back. He kisses his slow way down her body, marking her up as he goes, knowing she won’t mind if they aren’t visible. He shifts his hand down and works on tugging her jeans off. Artie’s hands come down and help him as she kicks them off. He notices the wet spot forming on her lacy pale pink panties. “Oh god, doll, already so wet for me.”

She bucks her hips up, “Please, I need you.”

“Patience,” he says, pressing his arm over her lower abdomen to keep her in place. He presses kisses against her thighs, nuzzles at her hip bones. He licks and sucks and nips at her thighs and hips and lower stomach, nose skimming along the waistband of her underwear but he never comes any closer to her aching core, leaving tiny bruises all over her. He marvels at the small noises of pleasure leaving her, that he is the one eliciting them from her. She gasps and tries to arch into him but his arm keeps her in place. “Tell me what you want.”

“You!” she gasps out as he drags his teeth over that growing spot on the pink material. He looks up at her, legs spread open for him, core aching with heat, fingers twisted in the sheets.

“Look at me doll.” She glances down, eyes wild and wide with desire. Artemis takes him in, lying between her legs and smirks.

“You look so pretty between my legs, babydoll.”

He pinches her side unexpectedly and she yelps, “Tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

“You. Bucky, you. Only you.”

“Only for me babydoll,” he says, nose skimming along her covered core, inhaling her scent. “Tell me what you _want_ though.”

She lets out a little moan as he nips at the material, just the tiniest bit of friction to tease her. “Bucky please, I need you. I want your cock inside me. I need you. I-,” her voice cuts off as Bucky moves his arm around and hooks his fingers in the waistband of her panties, sliding them down her legs.

“Don’t think so baby. I wanna taste you first.” Without warning he leans down and licks a broad stripe up her pussy.

She jerks in his grasp, “ _Shit_ , Bucky, please-,” He grasps her leg and tugs her to the edge of the bed so he can kneel on the floor in front of her as she bends her knees and braces her feet at the edge of the bed. Bucky nuzzles the inside of her thighs again, kissing gently until she’s whining, begging for him to do something else. “You fucking tease-,”

He dives back down suddenly and sucks harshly at her inciting a loud moan and rough hands in his hair. Artemis doesn’t try to shove him downwards, knowing he won’t like it, and because she knows him she thinks maybe he’ll give her something if she does something he likes. Like hair pulling. 

He moans into her when she pulls roughly at his dark locks again but shifts back. She makes a sound of discontent, low and needy. Bucky takes in her panting, desperate form, withering with need. Her own hands cup her breasts, kneading gently as her eyes roll back and Bucky’s cock twitches in his pants. “Legs on my shoulders.” She does so blindly as he presses his arm back across her stomach, thumb coming down to rub gentle circles at her clit. Bucky takes a moment to watch her back arch off the bed, eyes rolled back, fingers tearing at the sheets. She’s so responsive to even the smallest touch and he fucking loves it. He moves thumb and forefinger down to pinch her inner folds before putting his mouth on her.

It only takes a few minutes of agonizing teasing, of biting and sucking and licking at her aching pussy before she’s begging him to stop, “Please, babydoll, please, I don’t wanna cum yet. I wanna cum with you.” Bucky almost does stop the prospect of making her wait tantalizing. But he just keeps going, looking up at her. She’s flushed and beautiful and cursing him under her breath, mouth so pretty and filthy. Imagining what filthy things that pretty mouth can say and do only spurs him on as he dips his tongue into her aching hole.

“Bucky!” She squeezes her thighs around his head and he knows she’s so close. He continues to flick his tongue over her entrance, pressing in and out before swirling his tongue inside her and sucking harshly, as his hand comes down to rub her clit again, harder this time. Her legs shake and she grabs his hair roughly in one fist as she cums, wild pleasured noises leaving her. Bucky helps her through her orgasm, lapping up everything she has to give him until her body relaxes and she sighs. “You’ll pay for that,” she says, voice lazy as she comes down from her high, eyes unfocused and dazed.

“Mm, sure doll,” he says as he gets up from the floor, knees aching a bit, and lies down next to her. She reaches out to him and he brings her to his chest, cradling her gently. She strokes his hair back from his face.

Artemis’s eyes are soft as she says, “You look so pretty.” Her thumb trails over his lips. “Let me taste you, babydoll.” Bucky’s mouth is red and swollen, the space around covered in her juices. Bucky kisses her tenderly, allowing her to explore him as she pleases, languid and lazy.  

When she pulls back he says, “See how good you taste?”

She laughs against him, “Let me see how good _you_ taste.” Her hand drifts down over his chest, abs clenching as she goes lower. Her fingers deftly unbutton his jeans and he wiggles out of them, needing her to touch him. She pushes him back and straddles him, beginning to rock her hips against his, grinding down onto him. And Bucky is already rock hard and the pressure is killing him. He needs _more_ , he needs _her_. She braces her hands on the headboard as she continues her movements, gentle, unhurried thrusts against him. Her breasts bounce slightly above him as she continues so he reaches up to palm each of them, not expecting the needy mewl it inspires and his cock throbs in response. He’s so hard it’s now it’s painful. Her wetness seeps down through the cotton of his boxers to coat him when she suddenly stops to lean down and kiss him roughly, lips bumping together, teeth gnashing. She bites him so hard he tastes blood before she runs her tongue along his bitten lip, soothing the sting.

He moans into her mouth as she wiggles her hips onto him. She sits back and looks down at him one hand going to her breasts to brush over them, nipples hardening, the other going to rub her clit as she thrusts into her own hand. “Remember when I said you would pay for making me cum early?”     

Bucky reaches for her but she slaps his hand away before dipping two fingers into her dripping pussy and giving the most exaggerated, erotic moan he’s ever heard. Fuck, yeah he remembers. And she will make him pay. “I’ve never heard of anyone complain about getting to cum more than-,” Her fingers come away from her body to drag down his chest, lower and lower. She runs her fingers through the tiny, baby hairs of his happy trail seemingly at ease to torture him for as long as she pleased.

She wiggles back until she’s sitting on his knees, one finger running along the inside of the waistband of his boxers. “Suppose maybe I should pay you some attention.” Artemis moves away from him altogether, sliding his boxers down his thighs before encouraging his legs apart and kneeling between them. She grabs him in her fist, giving lazy, slow strokes up and down the length of him. Her thumb flicks over the tip spreading the pre-cum around, indolent and absolutely maddening.

When she starts to move her head downwards he stops her. “No, shit, no doll, if I get that pretty little mouth around me I won’t last.”

She shrugs, “I didn’t.”

He moans as she nears his cock, feels her hot breath against his dick. He twitches in her hand and she laughs. “Sweetheart you know it’s different for guys-,” She gives a tiny little kiss to the tip and all thoughts are driven from him. Small little kitten licks follow the kiss up and down the length of him until he’s burning with desire, the need for any kind of friction. Her hands rub up and down his thighs, comfortingly, sweetly. Artie sucks a kiss to his hip, his thigh, and pubic bone before she finally puts her mouth on him.

Her hair falls around her, obscuring her face as she gently sucks the tip of him into her mouth, one hand coming up to stroke the rest of him as she goes deeper and deeper, her mouth warm and tight and fuck-

She bobs her head against him and chokes softly around him, both hands going back to either of his thighs. Artemis suddenly takes all of him into her mouth and its everything Bucky can do not to cum in her mouth right then. She leans back and lets his cock go with a lewd pop, the corners of her mouth slicked with pre-cum and saliva. He wants to kiss her, taste himself on her and she does just that. Artie leans up to kiss him as her hand goes back to stroking him. “You want more, babydoll?” She whispers right as she gives a particularly rough stroke to his dick.

He gasps, breathing labored, “No, fuck, yes, I need to fuck you. Please doll let me fuck you-,”

Artemis laughs and moves away to press her mouth around him again. Her tongue swirls around the tip, licking and sucking and generally making the grossest, horniest sounds he’s ever heard. He looks down at her and notices her hand rubbing her clit, getting herself off. Bucky’s so busy watching and so fucking dazed that he doesn’t notice her smirking around his dick. She takes all of him again until her nose brushes his pubic bone, eyes watering, throat aching as she swallows around him. Artie lies her tongue flat against the underside of him and slowly drags upwards, her teeth scraping him just a bit as she hollows out her cheeks. Bucky grips the sheets because he’s so close and even the smallest touch will do him in now but she doesn’t go back.

She flops next to him on the bed and whispers in his ear, “How’s that for close?”

“You’re going to kill me,” he says tightly, his fingers itching to wrap around his cock and give that final stroke just to relieve this pressure.

“No,” she whispers before licking his neck and then the shell of his ear. “We’re gonna let you come away from the edge a little and then you’re gonna fuck me.” Her hands roam over his chest, over his abs, back up to his neck to cradle his face. He turns his head to look at her, still dazed from his almost orgasm. “Just like I been tellin’ ya to.”

But Bucky can’t fucking wait any longer. “I’ll fuck you now doll,” he growls and rolls her onto her back. She opens up to him easily, giggling that it was so easy to get him worked up for her. He sits up on his knees and jerks her up until her ass rests against his thighs, her knees fold over his hips. Artie looks up at him with wide, falsely innocent eyes, giving a low, terrible whine.

“Please,” she whimpers.

He brings his fingers down to press inside her briefly, but she’s more than ready. “Fuck, baby, so wet for me,” he whispers as he lines up with her entrance when, “Condoms. Do you have a condom?”

“No. But I’m clean and I’m on birth control so if you’re-,” her voice cuts off in a low moan as he pushes into her, gently, giving her time to adjust. He sinks lower and lower into her until he’s completely buried and fuck she’s so tight and wet and-

“Move,” her voice is strained, eyes wild. “I need you to move.” He’s filling her up so perfectly, so fully. “ _Please_.”

And so he does, slowly at first but she’s soon growling at him to go faster, harder. He does, setting a brutal pace, both of them becoming sweat slicked and desperate quickly. She rolls her hips up matching him thrust for thrust. Artie thinks it’s perfect, that her body has never moved so well with someone else’s, never been so in sync. Bucky pulls out of her suddenly to an offended, irritated noise from Artie. “Leg up here, sweetheart,” she lifts her leg and puts it on his good shoulder before he slips back into her, somehow even deeper than before. He angles his hips downwards, hitting something that makes her jump and whine so he gets his pace back up as she squeezes her eyes closed.

His every thrust elicits a cry of ecstasy and he can feel her holding back. “Cum for me. Let go, doll. C’mon Artie, let go.”

She shakes her head, tears rolling down her cheeks. He reaches down between them stretching her leg deliciously as his hand trails down her calf and thigh back to her core. He rubs soft circles against her clit even as his thrusts become rougher, “Cum, Artemis.”

And she does, not able to hold on any longer, not with his commanding voice low in her ear, as her walls flutter around him. He continues to pound into her, riding her through her orgasm, thrusts becoming jerky as he nears his own release. But Artie’s stomach is tightening again and he grins as he feels her walls tightening around him. Fuck, and so quickly too. “You got another one for me, doll? C’mon give it to me. Fucking give it to me Artie. Cum for me. Cum _with_ me.”  

They roll their hips together as they both suddenly find their release, Bucky cums so hard that his vision whites out for a few seconds and he doesn’t know anything but pure bliss. Artie cries out as her leg falls from his shoulder. Her eyes dazed and completely fucked out as Bucky reaches for her and pulls her up to his chest, as she continues to grind onto him, prolonging their pleasure. He falls against the mattress, still clutching her, without pulling out of her. Bucky lies back against the pillows and cradles her to him as they both come down, come back to reality. After a while Bucky realizes that she’s peppering him with baby kisses all against his neck and cheeks. “Love you, love you, love you.” He turns and captures her lips, kissing her as long as he can, loving the taste of his pleasure on her mouth, as he softens inside her.

She moves and he finally slips out of her. Artie whines a little at the loss, at the loss of that full feeling, and Bucky chuckles. “I love you too, doll.” She hums and buries into his chest. For a few minutes he just traces the scars on her back, beautiful and wonderful and lovely. He can’t believe he’s so lucky, has never felt so close to someone this way, never felt a romantic bond this deep. “I didn’t hurt you?” He finds himself asking, needs to make sure as her bruised wrists flash through his mind.

“No, babydoll, no,” she nuzzles at his chest, sleepy and worn out. Bucky pulls the blankets up around them as she starts to shiver, sweat drying as Bucky kisses her tacky skin. “Wanna go again?” She asks right as he’s about to ask if she wants to clean up.

He laughs, loud and happy, and is about to say yes, but that he still needs a few recovery minutes, when Lady jumps up on the bed turns a few circles and plops on top of Bucky’s feet with a heavy, irritated sigh. And Bucky looks so affronted that Artie starts to giggle and then Bucky starts to laugh. “Guess we aren’t doing anything.”

“Mm. That’s okay,” she says, “We have all the time in the world and I’ll wash the sheets.”

“All the time in the world,” he repeats. “I’ll hold you to that.”

She huffs out a breath, “I love you. And just so you know I’ll be jumping your bones all the time now.” Artie shivers, “You just might be the best I’ve ever had.”

Bucky laughs so hard that Artemis turns red, “God, doll, I think I’m okay with that. And you’re _definitely_ the best I’ve ever had.”

“Well of course I am,” she quips. Then, “But only cause you can’t remember anyone else.”

Bucky laughs so hard that Lady growls at him and Artie has to kiss him to shut him up.   


	33. Changing Times

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want y'all to know I wrote this when I should be doing about 20 other things (including studying for finals). I regret nothing. But I'm trash and I wrote more smut so the second break in the text is where that ends if smut isn't your thing. I would love to hear your thoughts, darlings. What would you like to see from me? I have this pretty much planned but I'm open to suggestions and ideas.

Bucky gets up early the next morning to take Lady out. She slept at the foot of the bed all night, silent and watchful but now she prances around him by the door, excited about the prospect of a walk. “We’ll go for a run later, hm?” He coos to her, “For now we’ll go around the block, Lady. You okay with that?” She makes a happy sound as Bucky scratches behind her ears.

He takes his time putting on his coat and shoes half-hoping Artie will wake and come with him. But she stays asleep and Bucky stands there watching her back rise and fall with easy breaths so long that Lady begins to nudge him with her nose. Bucky tries not to worry about leaving her alone. But he has this image of Artie waking up and reaching across the bed to find it cold, imagines her face falling as she realizes that he’s run out on her. Bucky knows that she wouldn’t think this; that she has no reason to. He _knows_ that she won’t think that. But he still worries so he makes sure to move her hair aside and kiss the back of her neck softly, his fingers trailing down her ruined back. She lets out a gentle breath, and still asleep whispers, “Buck…” And Bucky has to force himself to leave the apartment.

 

~

 

Bucky takes Lady on a longer walk than expected, the streets easier to navigate with her by his side, his anxiety eased with Lady as a second lookout and a good system for warning. No warnings come however and so it’s a good walk. When they get back he feeds her and makes sure she has water, glad that Artemis and Steve convinced him to get Lady’s necessities for both of their apartments. Bucky then sheds all his clothes and climbs back in bed with Artie who is still soundly asleep as Lady goes back to the pile of blankets by the door and begins working on making a suitable sleeping spot. Bucky chuckles and pulls Artie into his chest.

She hums, waking slowly and sighs, “You’re back.” Her voice is warm and happy as he wraps his arm around her naked middle.

“You weren’t supposed to wake up while I was gone,” he nuzzles behind her ear, she still smells like sex and sweat but underneath that her scent of mint and coffee lingers. “You wanna get breakfast? Or I can make breakfast? Or-,”

She turns her head and kisses his cheek, “Just want you to hold me. Maybe a little more than just hold me…” She takes his hand and guides it to cup one of her breasts.

“Shit sweetheart,” he squeezes gently before dragging down to her hip and then her core. “You’re fucking _wet_. Thinkin’ about me while I was gone?” He traces one finger down her folds and delights in the shiver it inspires. “Did you touch yourself?” And just thinking about _that_ , of Artemis waking to find him gone but still needy and deciding to take care of herself, has Bucky getting hard almost immediately.

She wiggles her ass back into him, right onto his dick and the friction is just enough to drive him mad, “Yes. I didn’t get off though so-,” He dips a finger into her, curling it downward as a small noise of surprised pleasure leaves her.

“I could go again,” he whispers against her before nipping at her neck as she gasps and rolls her hips into his hand. He takes his hand away from her to turn her toward him. “You’re insatiable doll.”

She whines, “I told you I’d be jumping your bones.” He wouldn’t have pegged her for a playful lover (though he supposed it made sense) or especially horny but there you have it. And he fucking _loves_ it.

Bucky can’t really find much of a problem with her need, so he rolls onto his back, taking Artie with him. She straddles his hips as she grinds onto him, moving her hands to her breasts, grasping and kneading before she pinches her nipples. She thrusts onto his hardening length as she leans over him, fingers trailing down his ribs to his hips. She places small butterfly kisses against his shoulder and down his bicep, murmuring something that sounds suspiciously like ‘smooth, so smooth’. She kisses the inside of his elbow and then down his forearm, the inside of his wrist, his palm, and then each of his fingers before she sucks two of them into her mouth. Artie swirls her tongue around them as Bucky watches with hooded eyes.

She releases his fingers, saliva trailing from her mouth, and brushes her lips back up his arm. “Your skin is so smooth,” she says as she licks his arm. “Bicep so pretty and smooth and pale.” Artie traces the faint blue lines in the inside of his elbow seemingly completely enamored and having totally forgotten about what exactly they were doing. She’s gentle all of a sudden as she starts to trace his scars with her fingers and her lips and Bucky can see her thoughts starting to move to how he got them, how they both got their scars. The sadness starts to creep in and he can’t let that happen. Both because he never wants to see Artemis sad but also because he’s hard as steel now and pressing into her wet folds.

“You know I used to have two.”

She pulls away and frowns, “Two what?”

“Arms.” She stares down at him before she bursts out laughing.

Artie braces her hands on his chest and Bucky admires her happiness. Her nose scrunches up, smile wide and toothy. “Mood ruiner!”

She leans over him and nuzzles his jaw still murmuring, “Pretty, pretty, pretty,” under her breath and Bucky has never liked a word so much or been called pretty or handsome or anything so much in his life until he met Artie. She had said to him one day when he had told her this, ‘You match my aesthetic’. Which had made Bucky snort in disbelief. 

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He grins and runs his hand down and over her back to grab a handful of her ass before pulling away and landing a smack there. She jumps and laughs before lazily leaning down again to kiss him while wiggling her ass back into his hand, which he pinches and then soothes her supple flesh. “I want you to ride me, Artie.”

She groans and sits back up, ever playful, “God but it’s so much _work_.”

He sits up and presses his erection up into her upper thigh near her ass. Artie gasps as Bucky cups his arm around her lower back, “C’mon baby please.” He buries his face into her neck before moaning throatily, having a feeling it will turn her on. Artie laughs tightly and pushes him back.

“Fine you horny bastard,” she laughs as he pushes his hand behind his head and waits, smirking up at her. She rolls her eyes as she rises up onto her knees to grab his dick, giving him a few languid strokes as she makes eyes at him. “Babydoll,” she whispers and grins at his response, a jump and groan. Artie brushes his cock over her dripping slit before finally guiding him to her entrance and sinking down until he’s completely buried in her.  

Artemis starts to grind against him as he groans heavily, his voice strained. He brings his hand from behind his head and grabs her hip, encouraging her to increase her pace but she just smirks down at him. “Don’t think so babydoll.” She slows and slows, grinding deeper and deeper until she stops completely, the pressure becoming painful. Artie wiggles then and drags her nails down his chest leaving raised red lines, “How’s that feel Buck?” She’s teasing him again and he wonders if he’s going to survive her. He decides that if he doesn’t it will be a good way to go.

She’s sweating and straining with the effort not to move. Artie wants to move, wants to feel him everywhere but she knows her stationary position on him is driving him wild. She almost wants him to beg. “I need you to move,” he says as she clenches her walls around him. “Shit, please, doll.”

A trickle of sweat drips between her breasts and Bucky watches it roll slowly down, low keening moan escaping him. He doesn’t even realize the sound is coming from him until she leans over him, lifting her ass slightly, bracing her hands on the headboard as she laughs. “Okay, okay, I’ll give you what you want, babydoll.” Artie looks down at him with heavy eyes and asks, “Would you touch me though? And I’ll move for you. Huh? Touch me. _Please_ , touch me-,” her voice cuts off in a heady moan as he drifts his hand over her back down between her cheeks, over her tight hole and back up. He smacks her ass again, a little harder this time.

“Move,” he growls. Her nails dig into the bedframe as she rocks against him, lifting her ass and letting it fall, moving faster and faster as her breathing becomes labored. Bucky can see that she won’t last this way and he loves it. He swats her ass again, “Say my name.” He runs his hand up her ribs to her chest, groping her roughly.

She throws her head back as her arms shake and she struggles to hold on to the headboard. “Bucky…” she sighs out, voice orgasmic and _close_.

“Louder,” he demands as his hand comes up her back to fist in her hair and tug her head back. Her thrusts become more desperate and Bucky decides to help her and pushes up to meet her. She cries out and stops moving with that first unexpected brutal thrust as her thighs squeezes together around his hips. Bucky watches in amazement as she physically pushes herself away from the edge and meets his pace, thrust for thrust. Her face is contorted in pleasure-pain as he lets go of her hair to tug at one of her nipples harshly. “Name, Artemis.”

“B-Bucky!” She gasps, loudly this time. “Bucky!” Her eyes roll back as he begins to rub his fingers at her clit, alternating soft and slow with rough and fast. Artie lets out a soft moan as her walls flutter around him.

“Artemis,” he whispers so tender and sweet while still driving into her so brutally, their damp skin smacking together, that she can’t help but come undone around him. Her body jerks wildly before her hands slip away from the headboard to brace against his chest and she squeezes her thighs together. She collapses on top of him and sighs as Bucky reaches his climax at the bottom of hers still rocking up into her. She feels him twitch inside her as he cums, hot and long. As he comes down, his eyes unfocused and hazy, she begins kissing his sweaty chest and neck, licking and biting where she sees fit, enjoying the saltiness coating his skin.

Bucky thinks that they might have fallen asleep together like that for a while when she sits up and pulls away from him to get out of bed on shaky legs. Bucky watches her naked form stumble to the bathroom where he hears the spray of the shower start. Artemis comes back to the door a few minutes later and asks shyly, “You comin’?” Her hands are behind her back, ankles crossed as she looks up at him through long eyelashes. Her hair is loose coming down to the top of her perky breasts. His eyes drift down to her thighs and that little patch of hair there between them, carefully groomed. He notices her thighs are still wet and slicked with both of them leaking from her. 

He smirks, “Already did.”

She pouts, “Fine guess I’ll shower by myself then.”

He shoots up in bed, “No I’m comin’.” She laughs and turns to move to the shower but not before she bends to pick up something from the floor, teasing him, giving him a show. And god, wouldn’t he love to look at that every day of his life as he watches his cum and hers drip from her swollen pussy, her ass round and red on one side from his hand. He wants to spread those pretty lips and bend her over and split her open. But he also wants to hold her under the warm spray of water and kiss her gently until he can’t think of anything else but the taste of her mouth. And he wants to watch movies with her with too many blankets and many layers of clothes to keep warm. And he wants to take her out and hold her hand but also hold her down and eat her out until she can’t remember her own name. So, things are very confusing to say the least. But, they have all the time in the world and so Bucky decides to take it one thing at a time.   

 

~

 

Connor points at Bucky and Artie when they come downstairs later that day both doe-eyed and more lovey than usual which is saying something indeed, “They finally did it!”

“God, I know, I could hear it,” Tommy says as Steve and Peggy start to laugh. Bucky smirks and Artie groans. “Yeah sounded just like that.”

“Oh my god, Tommy!” Artie exclaims and punches his shoulder. “You ass.”

“I’m sorry but y’all were loud,” he says, not sounding sorry at all.

Connor sighs dramatically as Lady sniffs at him, “Thank god it happened. So annoying, all the touching and feeling and making out in the kitchen. I mean-,”

Artie’s spine straightens and her eyes narrow, “Well it’s my kitchen, Connor.” Bucky’s hand comes down on her lower back protectively as Lady’s hackles rise and she begins to growl.

“Why are you all so sensitive and irritating?” He steps away from Lady with an audible swallow, “Even your damn dog. Which by the _way_ -,”

“No one wants to hear it, Connor,” Tommy says. “And we’ve got customers so go find something to do.” Connor rolls his eyes and steps carefully around Lady, who is still growling at him, and through the swinging kitchen door as he mutters under his breath.

Artie takes Bucky’s hand and pulls him around the counter toward Steve and Peggy, who are both grinning. “We wanted to see how you were doing with Lady but it looks like things are more than settled,” Steve says.

“Don’t you two have jobs?” Artie says as she pulls Bucky past who’s chuckling as she turns red. Lady trots along at their feet and Bucky reaches down to clip her leash onto her collar. “We’re goin’ out. You guys have fun smirking.”

“Where’re you going?” Tommy calls after them.

“Out! Be back later, babe, so you can have a break.”

“Thanks, hon,” Tommy calls back. They had decided to test Lady a bit. Bucky said he had felt safe and less nervous with her and so now he wondered if he could feel safe enough not to be anxious with Artie. He worried something, anything would happen out in the open. But Lady is alert, has excellent hearing, and strong protective instincts both toward him and Artie.

So, Bucky wraps Lady’s leash around his hand and then lets Artie tuck her hand around his. “Thanks for coming out with me, doll. I know you need to be at the café.”

“Well there’s actually something there I need to tell you about,” she says as they continue down the sidewalk, Lady keeping pace with them instead of pulling ahead. Bucky’s gut clenches at her words.

“What is it?”

She strokes her thumb along the back of his hand as Lady noses closer to him but doesn’t stop their walk. “Nothin’. Me and Tommy just decided that maybe we’d hire some more help. We do work quite long hours and…we have the money now. So, I’m supposed to ask you if you wanna get paid now.” She smiles at him, “Some college kids or somethin’.”

“I think it’s a good idea. You work too much. And I don’t want to be paid.”

She frowns as they turn a corner, “Why not?” He shrugs and Artie’s frown deepens, “Is there something you wanna do? Like as a job? Somewhere else?”

“Do you want me to get a job?” He asks. Does she not want him around? Bucky thinks back to that morning and his head spins. If that's the case she sure has a way of showing it.

“No. I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant…are you thinking about it?”

Bucky’s quiet for a few blocks, the wind suddenly very cold. “When is your birthday?”

She looks over at him, bewildered. “What?”

“Your birthday. When is it?” He says again, voice rising a little bit. “I don’t know your birthday. There’s a lot of small things I don’t know about you. Like your favorite flower. Only that you're shit out of luck if you like roses because I won’t buy those for you, too cliche for someone like you. But I know when you’re lying or keeping something from me.”

She stares down at her feet as they reach a park, “I’m, um, I’ve been thinking about going to school.” Artie swallows thickly and looks away from him, her face burning. “And I was wondering if you were thinking about the future too.” Bucky opens his mouth to say something but she barrels on, “And you’re doing so well that you could get a job somewhere where there isn’t much interaction with people. And I don’t know...I know you don’t wanna be working in the café forever and ever and ever. And my birthday is March 10th.”

Bucky looks over at her in surprise, “March 10th?” He tugs her to a stop and reaches for her neck pulling out his dog tags that she always wore. “Yeah, the date is right. Why didn’t you tell me we have the same birthday?” He asks smiling, not realizing her rising anxiety.

“Why is that what you’re focusing on?” She grabs them back and stuffs them in her shirt before stalking away.

Bucky stands with Lady, dumbstruck, “Artie!” He dashes after her. “Hey, what’s-,”

“I’m trying to tell you something important, Bucky! I’m going to school and I won’t be around as often. We’ll be separated. And we aren’t exactly used to that y’know? We aren't exactly good with being away from each other.” She bounces nervously on her toes. “I’m scared and we’re hiring a new person and that’s what I had to tell you.”

She darts away a few feet and stays there all the way back to the café, not coming any nearer to Bucky and not letting him any nearer to her, anxious and angry and nauseous. Lady only whines sadly low in her throat. 


	34. Changes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! Thanks for reading! <3

* * *

“Why didn’t you talk to me about it? Even…just mention it in passing?”

Artemis whips around and fixes him with a glare so wrathful it makes him wince. Bucky doesn’t particularly like anyone being angry with him but especially hates it coming from Artie. She’s hardly ever mad at him and vice-versa and he can’t really figure out why she is now. But he remembers her words from earlier on the street and he knows. She’s frightened and lashing out because of it. “Well _Barnes_ ,” he flinches away from her use of his last name. He hates it when she uses it. It feels impersonal and unloved and like she might be mad forever. “It’s _my_ decision.”

He sighs a long breath. What the fuck had happened between them? “I just…I _thought_ we were supposed to talk about things but I guess that’s only one sided now.”

Artemis stares at him for a few long seconds, disbelief emanating off of her, “You’re kidding right?”

“No,” he says gruffly as Lady whines at him from her place beside him on the bed. He scratches behind her ears as he swallows thickly and looks anywhere but Artie’s eyes. They had been like this all day, the tension between the two of them palpable. Bucky thought they would talk about it now, alone, the café closed, safely upstairs. But apparently she’s just going to continue to shut him out.

“You should go home tonight.”

He jolts and looks over at her but she has her back to him now, scrubbing a pot slowly at the sink. Bucky’s throat tightens. “Artemis-,”

“Go home Bucky.”

He stands, “This is my home. _You_ are my home.” She doesn’t turn, doesn’t react at all. “You really want me to go?”

She shrugs, “Might as well get used to it.” He strides over to her and tries to get her to look at him but Artemis refuses point blank to even look in his direction. “Bucky,” she says after a few minutes, “Go _home_.”

“I told you-,” he starts, but she shakes her head and walks away.

In the doorway to the bathroom she turns to him, “If you aren’t gone when I get done showering I will call Steve and have him come haul your ass out.” With that she slams the door and Bucky still can’t figure out what he did wrong.

 

~

 

Bucky doesn’t leave. Just sits on the floor with Lady, a book in hand, beside the door. When she opens the door again Bucky is shocked by her appearance and then guilt hits him hard and he tries to remember the last time Artemis ate in from of him. She has deep purple rings underneath her eyes and has definitely lost weight. He saw her _naked_ this morning and didn’t realize. Her face is red from tears but she wears his shirt and a pair of his boxers. Artie looks down at him and feels a surge of affection. “You idiot,” she whispers. “I threaten you with the wrath of a righteous Steve Rogers and all you do is sit there?”

“C’mere sweetheart,” he says, putting down the book. She sits in his lap and leans her head against his shoulder.

“Space book,” she murmurs as she picks it up. “You did save it.”

He strokes her side, “Well it is my favorite.” Bucky kisses her temple, anxiety eating at him now, “Why haven’t you been eating?”

“I eat,” she says, but her voice is hollow. “I do.”

Bucky sits quietly for a moment, “Why do you wanna leave the café? You love the café.”

She’s quiet as she leafs through the book, admiring the water warped pages. “I don’t want to. I’m not gonna. But it was always me and Tommy’s plan to go to school together when we got back. And now it’s time and I didn’t plan on having a Bucky.”

He chuckles, “A Bucky?”

“My Bucky. My babydoll.” She passes her mouth over his jaw softly.

Bucky rubs her back gently, “You should do it. We’ll be okay. You said you were scared?”

She shrugs, “I’m scared of losing you.” Artie rubs her face into his shoulder, “And I know it’s stupid but it’s how I feel and I’m sorry I’m so bad at telling you how I feel.”

“You’ll get better at it. I did.” He feels guilty again. All they ever do is talk about him and how he’s feeling and how he’s coping. “Tell me everything, doll.”

She hesitates for half a second before she starts talking and doesn’t stop for several hours.

 

~

 

One thing Bucky had learned about Artie was that she liked to comfort others with touch which in turn comforted her. Artie did not really like to be petted. She liked to have her hair touched and her hand held and she liked to have Bucky tuck his body around hers. She didn’t like being stroked or cradled or coddled unless she was in a very specific mood. Bucky however, lives for it.

So, she reclines against the pillows of the bed and Bucky lays in the V of her legs. She hums and drifts her fingers all over his naked back as he pillows his head on her stomach, arm tucked behind her back. Bucky loves her touch, is still amazed sometimes that touch could be gentle. Artie’s fingers tangle in his hair then to tug gently. Lady lays snugly beside Bucky, tucked into his side. And Bucky…he has never felt safer or warmer, despite what Artie told him earlier.

But Artie is soothed that they’ll be okay, that Bucky isn’t going anywhere. Things are changing, he knows that. But for once he feels as though it’s for the better.

“What do you think about cutting my hair?” Her fingers still on his bad shoulder where she had been massaging the knots of the day out.

Her palm presses down gently, “Well babydoll, like I told you before, I think you should look how you wanna look.” Artemis’s fingers drift up to pull on his hair and he chuckles.

“You like it long,” he accuses. “But that’s okay. I like it when you pull on it.”

She giggles and pushes Bucky off of her, “Oh, hon, I know. You _love_ when I pull your hair.” Artie leans over him to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, smiling against him, “But you should still look how you want to. I’ll support you no matter what.”

“What if I want a mullet?”

Artie pinches him but her smile is still in place, “Don’t be an ass. I’m trying to be sweet.”

“You’re always sweet, doll,” he says and tucks some hair behind her ear.

“Even when I tease you?” She asks, eyes darkening.

“Especially then,” Bucky starts to say something else but Artie darts for him, lips pressed passionately against his, and he can’t remember what.

 

~

 

“I didn’t think I’d ever see the day when Barnes had short hair,” Sam says, arms crossed over his chest, smirking as Bucky glares at him. It had taken several weeks for Bucky to decide he did want to cut his hair. It’s the first week of April, rain lashing against the front window of the café and so it’s mostly empty.

“Ain’t it cute?” Artie says, running her fingers up the back of his neck and through the small hairs there. “I like it lots.”

“Oh, so it was your idea then?” Peggy asks, “I do like it Bucky. It suits you.”

He nods, “Thanks, Peg.” Bucky has slowly begun talking to people he knows well in bits and pieces and he likes to see their small, happy reactions each time. Peggy beams at him as Steve smiles behind her. Sharon leans forward on her elbows at the counter and examines him more closely.

“I mean, it isn’t that short is it?” She asks. “But Peggy’s right it does suit you, Buck.”

Connor snorts as he walks past, “Coulda got a proper haircut instead of running around like a heathen.” Artie kicks him as he walks by and Lady growls loudly. Bucky smiles, never in his life would he have thought he’d have two such protective girls. But that’s not exactly true, he thinks, his mother and sisters were protective. He remembers suddenly that he’s supposed to take Artie to meet them.

Artie runs her hand through his hair again, shorter but not so short that she couldn’t pull it. He still has to tuck it behind his ears though he would miss the little buns Artie sometimes pulled it into. Sophie could have his small hair tie collection, he has it with him now, expecting her to drop by after school.

“Yeah, I mean it isn’t as short as it once was-,” Steve starts when the café’s door is thrown open and Sophie launches herself through, Ed grumbling and hobbling in behind her trailing a few other guys, slicking their floor with rainwater.

“Hey, James! We need some coffee over here boy-o. It’s cold and I’m an old man,” Ed calls, not even looking up as Sophie freezes halfway to the counter, slow smile spreading over her face.

She points at his head and shouts, “Finally! Now all my drawings will be correct!” Bucky and Artie burst out laughing as Lady moves out from behind the counter to greet Sophie whom she adores. “Hello, little Lady. I have some treats for you.” After depositing them on the floor she scrambles onto a stool, patting Steve on the arm, “So…Buck…what are ya doing with your hair ties?” She asks, raising an eyebrow as she pulls her homework out of her backpack.

Bucky just smiles as Ed shouts for him again. He passes Sophie a plastic baggie full of his hair ties. 

 

~

 

“So, we don’t have to worry about Michael anymore?”

Steve shrugs, “Shouldn’t have to. I’ll be around a lot so I’ll know if he violates it.” Artie stares at the restraining order and lets out a long, shaky breath before she launches herself at Steve, hugging him tight.

“Thank you, Stevie.” She smiles into his shoulder, “You’re the best kinda cop.”

He laughs, “I do my best.” Steve feels a bit of tears on his shoulder so he rubs her back gently.

“You don’t know how much anxiety it was causing me, hon," she says as he pulls away and pats her shoulders.

Artie had become one of his very best friends and even if she hadn’t become his friend she had helped Bucky so much that he would have owed her anyways. Steve didn’t particularly like people that harassed others in any case. “I know, Artie. You deserve to feel safe. It’s the least I could do.”

Just then the door to Steve’s apartment opens revealing Bucky and Lady, who are coming back from a walk. Bucky looks panicked at Artie’s tears and only a little jealous at her grip on Steve. Bucky generally has trouble with anyone other than himself touching Artie but he’s getting better at controlling it.

“Are you okay? What happened?” Artie pulls away from Steve to hand Bucky the restraining order. His eyes widen as he reads before a smile breaks out on his face, “Thank god.” Bucky attacks Steve in a hug, smiling and squeezing too tight as Artie throws her arms around the both of them.

The door opens again, this time it’s Peggy who rolls her eyes at the scene before her, “I don’t want to know.” She has takeout and an overnight bag with her and Artie knows that she and Bucky are going to be very unwelcome very soon though neither of them would say anything about it if they stayed.

Artie presses a loud, dramatic, wet kiss to Steve’s cheek before she pulls away, “C’mon Buck. I think they may have had something arranged before we showed up.” She wiggles her eyebrows at them before taking Bucky’s hand and whistling for Lady who immediately trots after them.

Out on the street Artie starts to hail a cab when Bucky shakes his head, “What?”

He looks nervous and fidgets before he says, “There are some people I want you to meet.” She looks confused and Bucky worries she might not come with him, “Please? It’s important.”

“’Course Bucky.” She takes his hand and squeezes gently.

 

~

 

After a few minutes of walking they reach a small cemetery. Bucky turns to Artie and starts to say something but she just reaches out and adjusts his jacket drawstrings, fixes the buttons on his Henley. “Don’t want your mother thinking I’m not taking care of her boy,” She says as she tucks his hair behind his ear and smooths down any stray baby hairs. Bucky nearly tears up then and has to swallow thickly and look away for a moment to compose himself.

“You don’t have to you know. I know it’s weird-,”

She shushes him gently, “’S not, hon. Promise. Maybe you’ll meet my dad someday huh?” Artie takes his arm and he leads them through the plots carefully, so softly and careful not to step on anyone else’s deceased that it makes it a little hard for Artie to breathe. Artie stops to pick some wild flowers on the way, blue and yellow and purple and pink. “What happened to your dad?”

“Died when we were little. He was a mean old drunk and no one much mourned him,” Bucky says quickly, not wanting to tarnish this visit with thoughts of his father. Artie nods and doesn’t ask anything else.

When they reach the graves Artie stands back and lets Bucky go ahead by himself first. She can’t hear most of what he says to them but just thinking about what he might be saying makes her eyes water. “’m sorry I haven’t been round much Ma,” she catches at the end. “But I got a girl now. Can you believe it? She’s here. I want her to meet you. She picked flowers just like Becca used to do when we’d go to see your Ma. I forgot completely about the flowers of course.” Lady gives a gentle whine at Artie’s side but doesn’t move. He scrubs at the back of his neck and then turns to Artie, “C’mere doll.”

She walks forward, Lady keeping pace beside her. Artie stops at Bucky's side and pulls him to her. They stand quietly together for a while before Bucky introduces them, so softly that even standing right beside him she can barely hear him. Artie looks up at Bucky when he finishes and then back to the plots silent and waiting. “Hi,” she starts, voice cracking. “I’m so happy I found your son, your brother. He’s the best thing to have ever happened to me. He’s kind and sweet and I love him very much. And I’ll do my best to take care of him.”

She stops talking as Bucky sniffles and the wind blows their hair gently. He leans into her, suddenly very tired. Artie starts to hum then and Bucky’s surprised he manages to stay on his feet. He buries his face in her neck and huffs out a long breath. They stand like that for a long time until Artie asks, “Bucky?”

“Hm?”

“Which colors do they like?” He looks at the flowers in her hand.

“Becca liked yellow and Ma liked red,” he says. “Ellie liked purple and Charlotte liked blue.”

Artie frowns at the flowers in her hands, “I don’t have red, Buck.”

He smiles and leans down to kiss her slowly. Bucky leans his forehead against hers and says, “Pink’ll do just fine, sweetheart. She’d appreciate it either way, just that you thought about it at all is what counts.” Artie thinks he’ll leave it at that but he continues, “They’d have loved you, doll. I’m sure they do now. But if I’d have brought you home….Ma woulda absolutely doted on you and…my sisters…they would have been delighted to have an older girl around. Braided your hair and made you color with ‘em.”

Bucky continues to murmur little details about them as Artie lays out the wild flowers.

She steps back when she finishes distributing the them to look up at Bucky as she wraps her arms around his waist. He never talks about them. It’s something he kept private and she never pushed him to say anything. “I woulda loved to do those things, babydoll.”

He nods against her, “Thanks for coming with me.”

“I’ll come back with you whenever you want.”

“They really would have loved you. I know _I_ do. Ma woulda tried to feed you up though. She always thought that people were too thin. She was such a good cook Artie. I’ve never had food as good as hers.” He pauses, “And Becca was a little artist like Sophie is. Steve always took her around Brooklyn to find new subjects. And Ellie was the sweetest little girl in the world, she cared about everybody. Charlotte was a little devil though,” he says affectionately. “Always in trouble and into something she shouldn’t be.”

Artie smiles, “I didn’t realize how much you had remembered about them.”

Bucky sighs and hugs her tighter, “I just…they’re mine ya know? And I want to keep them safe. But I know you’ll keep them safe too. And…for a long time I couldn’t remember them so when I started to…I didn’t want anyone to take them away again so I didn’t say anything.” He nuzzles her cheek, “But I had this thought that they would have loved you and I knew it was true. So, I talked to Steve and made sure what I remember was true and then...well here we are.”

She wipes her eyes and kisses Bucky gently, “I’ll keep them safe, babydoll. Tell me more about them.”

So, they sit on the damp April ground in front of the headstones and Bucky tells her everything, her hand inside his and Lady half sitting in his lap. The wind blows a few of the flower petals loose which swirl and swirl and swirl, higher and higher into the clear blue sky just starting to darken before they come back to earth and land on Bucky and Artie’s laps. They both cry but only a little and mostly out of happiness.

 

~

 

Later that night after they had gotten home and eaten dinner, they had made love. There’s a difference Bucky realizes. Before they had been fucking and yeah that’s good but this was something different, something personal and close and slow. Artie even lets him pet her afterwards. And he takes the opportunity to do so, tracing every part of her body without barriers and without Artie making a sour face. Of course he missed her tracing and petting and adoring him but he likes this too. She had fallen asleep a few minutes earlier, her body sprawled out and covered to the waist by the sheet, warm spring air blowing in the window and warming their skin, sweat dried and wonderfully languid exhausted muscles aching sweetly. His dog tags sit nestled in the valley between her breasts and he remembers their birthday suddenly and smirks. He has to make himself stop thinking about it before he gets hard again. He knows though as he gazes at her form so open and trusting and _his_ that this is the only woman for him. He knew before but now he knows what he wants to do about that.

He wonders if Steve could help him with a ring and if it would be one Artie would agree to wear.   


	35. Ring and Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading lovelies! We have probably two parts left which I'm very excited for! I hope y'all have liked reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing it. Thank you for any sweet comments or kudos or even just looking and reading. It truly means so much. <3

“I…just think it might be too early Buck. You’ve only been together what…five months? You haven’t even known each other a full year. I mean that’s crazy,” Steve says, rubbing the back of his neck and wincing slightly. “Maybe just leave things the way they are for a while.”

Bucky turns from where he’s been walking a rut into the floor. “Steve…I know that she’s the only person for me. So, shouldn’t I ask?” He’s confident, at the moment, that she’ll say yes.

Steve crosses his arms, “Not necessarily. What if she doesn’t want to get married? What if it’s too soon for her? You remember when you two first got together she was so worried she was rushing things…” He pauses and shakes his head, “I’m just sayin’ Buck maybe you should test the waters first.”

He knows Steve is right but… “There is no one else.” He’s sure of it. How could there be? After everything?

Steve grimaces again, “And I know you feel that way. But…Artie might not.” Bucky whips around to stare at Steve. “We’re young ya know? And who knows-,”

But Bucky isn’t listening anymore as he makes a beeline for the door. Just the thought…that this might only be temporary to Artemis has him anxious and flighty. Steve’s hand catches at his shoulder, “Hey, Bucky, I’m just saying Artie is easily freaked out when it comes to stuff like this. She doesn’t like to be trapped or held down.”

Bucky has gone completely still under Steve’s hand. “I’m not trapping her Steve!” That’s not what marriage is, that’s not what he’s trying to do. He just…why did he want to marry her? He loves her. He wants to be with her forever. And isn’t that what people do? When they’re sure they’ve found their person they marry them? But apparently…she might not feel the same things, the same way as Bucky, according to Steve. Bucky shakes Steve’s hand away and leaves, Lady trailing behind him.

 

~

 

 “Ow! Shit, Bucky stop, please,” Artie whimpers and he pulls out of her roughly. He has her bent over the counter in her apartment, hand fisted in her hair, as he takes her from behind. He reaches down to caress her swollen folds with a soothing finger, no doubt aching from his harsh treatment. He frowns at the bruises on her back and the back of her neck from his hand. She stands straight, legs shaking, and pushes away her underwear from their place caught around her thighs. Bucky knows she doesn’t like it _too_ rough but he still pushed her today, some animalistic need to mark her overcoming him. Neither of them has cum yet and Bucky desperately needs to and soon. But Artie wasn’t enjoying it and honestly neither was he.

She turns and reaches down between them to take him in her hand. All it takes is a few gentle strokes and her soft voice in his ear, whispering how much she loves him, how beautiful and sweet and kind he is, before he cums in her hand with a gasp. She grabs a dish towel and cleans him off and herself. “I'm sorry-,” he starts to gasp out. He knows she hates it like that. 

“I’m fine, babydoll. I’ll have to throw this dish towel out though,” she reaches up and presses her hand to his cheek. “Go lay down.”

He doesn’t let her pull away though, “Artie…”

“It’s okay, hon.”

“I need to talk to you about something, Artie,” he blurts out before he can stop himself. 

She hugs him close, “I know. I could tell. Now, go lie down.” Artie pats his back as he huffs out a long defeated breath, “C’mon, I know, I know.” She kisses his ear, “But you’ll fuck me the way I like later.” She peppers him with kisses and then lets him go.

He hums in agreement and then moves away to the bed as Artie darts into the bathroom to change quickly but Bucky doesn’t bother, only pulls the sheet up to his waist and closes his eyes. He feels the bed dip and looks over to see her perched cross-legged on the bed next to him, in clean panties and an overly large shirt. Her hand comes over to press over his heart before she leans down to kiss him. “Now why did you jump me like that?” She laughs against him as she lies down horizontally on the bed, her head resting on his stomach. “You know why you’re the best I’ve ever had? You’re so good at foreplay. And so attentive, babydoll, I never have to tell you what I want.”

She turns and presses her mouth to his abs as he says, “I talked to Steve and…” He swallows thickly. “Well…I dunno…I, we- Should we talk about the future?”

“What do you mean?”

Bucky sighs and stares at the ceiling, “I mean…I talked to Steve and he made me doubt…you.”

She sits up, face contorted in hurt, “He made you doubt…me?” Artie looks around, confused and upset. “Why..? I…what did I-,”

“Nothin’, no nothin’. I just- this is forever for me and I don’t know if it is for you. I’m not some passing thing am I?”

Artie stares at him, mouth hanging open before she snaps it closed and her lip trembles. “How could you think that? That I’m using you?”

He sits up and takes one of her hands. “No, no, no, no. I didn’t mean it like that…I meant…I mean…I love you and this isn’t coming out right goddammit. Artie I just need to know this is real for you.”

She shakes her head, “Of course it is. How could you think that it isn’t?” He trails his hand up to her neck to cup there as he leans forward and kisses her. Artie swings her leg over his lap to straddle him, her nails dragging up and down his back. “My Bucky…How could you think I don’t wanna be here?”

“I’m not…I’m not trapping you?”

“ _Trapping me_? Good lord Bucky if you think you could trap me you got another thing comin’,” She says against his neck. “I’m here, I’m with you ‘cause I wanna be.” But how long could that last? Bucky thinks. “Babydoll, I can _see_ your self-doubt. What’s gotten into you?”

He kisses her gently, “I love you.”

Artie caresses his cheek, “Forever, forever. Remember?”

“Yeah, doll, yeah,” He nuzzles her cheek. “Now let me take care of you.”

“Nuh-uh,” she says and pulls away, “’Cause you aren’t convinced. I need you to know that this is not one-sided. Okay? What brought this on? Why would Steve say that?” And Bucky can tell that she’s really hurt and he realizes how it must sound to her without context.

He shakes his head, “I can’t tell you what we were talking about but trust me he didn’t mean it the way it sounds.”

She frowns at him, “Then what way did he-,”

“Can’t tell you!” He says and kisses her, openmouthed and hot and wet. She squeals but he just follows her when she tries to pull away. When she’s gasping and laughing he pulls away to lean his forehead against hers, “Steve loves you doll. Trust me that he didn’t mean it that way okay?”

“Okay,” she says as she wraps her arms around his neck. “Are you okay now? Do you believe me?”

“Yes,” he says. Then, regretting it even as he asks it, “What would make you feel trapped? Just so I can avoid it?”

“Hmmm, a building on top me generally does it. Elevators are hard. Small rooms. Large people. Large people in small rooms. And major commitment,” she jokes, smiling, but Bucky’s smile fades at the last one, his body tensing. “Buck? I was just joking, babydoll.”

“I know,” he says, trying to hide his discomfort. Bucky pushes her gently off of him and lowers himself onto her, laying his head between her breasts. Her legs wrap around his hips as her fingers thread through his hair.

She starts giggling then, louder and louder, until his whole body is shaking with the vibrations. “What is it, doll?” He asks looking up, resting his chin on her breastbone. He can’t help but smile as he watches her laugh but then he notices her tears. “Artie?”

Artemis smiles and strokes his cheek, “You’re gettin’ so bulky.” She laughs again, “So different from when I met you. It makes me happy.” She tweaks his nose and then says, “Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me my bulky babydoll,” as Bucky turns red from the compliment and praise.

He laughs and slides up her body to kiss her, first her neck and then her chin and cheeks and nose and then her lips as she wriggles underneath him. “Y’know I’m still kinda…” She fidgets again giving him a pointed look. 

Bucky tilts onto his bad side before sliding his fingers down her body to skim over her underwear before dipping under and stroking her gently. “I know doll.” She’s still wet and needy and he has her squirming again easily enough, soft mewls leaving her as she wraps her fingers around his wrist and guides him to her sensitive bundle of nerves. Bucky presses his thumb there and rubs slowly as he curls two fingers into her. “You’re okay, sweetheart,” he murmurs as her other hand comes up to stroke his neck and then fist in his hair. “You’re okay, hmm?” Bucky kisses her sweetly as her fingers tease his hair right as he curls his fingers upwards, hitting something that makes her cry out against his mouth and a tear slip out of her eye. He pushes her to the very edge before he stops, Artie panting and moaning softly.

“Bucky!” She whines, “Please…”

“’m gonna take you, baby.” He says and Artie whines again as he pushes her panties down her thighs before tossing them away. “Spread your legs doll.”

She does and he sits up to push into her gently as her knees squeeze his hips. He leans over her and kisses her as he thrusts into her unhurriedly, extra carefully as an apology for earlier, his hand braced on the mattress. And she seems to be in the mood for slow languid lovemaking as her hands go to either side of his face, her eyes gazing into his as her breathing becomes labored.

He dips down to kiss her neck and Artie is amazed at the control he has over his body to balance the way he is with only one arm. She knows his shoulder will pay for it later but the thought is driven from her mind as he angles his hips downward and pushes her closer to her release. She guides his head up from her neck so she can look into his eyes again. “I like this way the best. When you’re behind me I can’t kiss you or look at you.” She does then, mouth warm and wet and delicious. Their tongues tangle together as they explore each other thoroughly and slowly, bodies melding together as Artie wraps her legs around him to pull him closer.  

She leans her forehead on his to look into his eyes, hands on either side of his face, his eyes so blue and foggy with slow pleasure. Bucky grunts as his pushes become slower and deeper as they both near the edge. “Cum with me Buck.” But he can hold back any longer as he takes in her face; mouth open, eyes rolled back as she arches her back, and spills himself inside her. She cums shortly after, her gasps quiet and breathy, walls fluttering deliciously around him as he comes down, still grinding against her until her hands leave his face to dig into his shoulders. Artemis brings him down against her chest still clothed by the shirt and weaves her fingers into his hair, slowly beginning her ritual of comforting and caressing after sex.

He rests his head against her neck and contemplates that sickening question again.

 

 ~

 

 Bucky stands nervously at Steve’s living room window as Steve himself sits on the couch behind him.

“Whenever you’re ready, Buck,” he murmurs. Bucky swallows thickly and turns back to his friend. “You don’t have to,” Steve reminds him but Bucky shakes his head. He needs to know and he’s ready to hear it.

“Why was it cold?” He asks, sitting down next to Steve, very near to him on the couch. He’s still afraid sometimes that he might wake up back in that hell. That this is all just a very long, very realistic hallucination and that one day he’ll wake up and it’ll all be gone.

Steve sighs and rubs the back of his neck, “It was underground. Way under. Some kinda abandoned plant or somethin’. And…a lot of it…had functional freezers. Walk ins.”

Bucky nods and swallows thickly. “And…Where?”

“Near a city. It was abandoned, the town overrun and so-,”

“No one realized.”

Steve looks uncomfortable at the memories and Bucky pauses before he asks the next question. He hadn’t thought about how talking about these things might affect Steve and so he scoots closer and leans his head on Steve’s shoulder. “I’m here, Steve. You brought me back.”

“Yeah pal, yeah I know.” He sniffles a little, “What else do you wanna know?”

Bucky swallows and wishes Artie wasn’t out with Peggy and Sharon for the day. “What happened to them? The people that held me?”

Steve is quiet for a long time but Bucky doesn’t move away from him. He thinks about Steve when they were kids, small and scrawny and angry but always righteous in his convictions and his willingness to help others. He hadn’t changed at all, not with the war and not with Bucky’s patchy memory and past resolve to die, not with everything that had happened to both of them. He remembers finding Steve in alleys which blurs into Steve in uniform, authoritative and important but still kind to those he commanded.

He remembers couch cushions on the floor and playing one shitty video game only to always be interrupted by his sisters, who Steve would then entertain and teach. He remembers Steve at his father’s funeral and before that letting Bucky and his sisters stay over at his place when things got bad. Sarah Rogers, as kind as her son, comforting his mother in the kitchen while they laughed and watched cartoons in the living room.

He remembers Steve at his sisters’ and his mother’s funerals. He remembers not ever feeling alone.

“Dead,” Steve says, leaning back into Bucky. “All of them, except two to question. At least…the ones that were at that cell.” He sighs, “I’m sorry, Buck.”

“Nothin’ to be sorry for, Stevie.” Bucky asks, “There was a helicopter?”

“Yeah, then we flew to Jordan. Got you patched up just a bit and went over some of the intel we found and…I saw what they did to you…then we went home.” He shrugs, “That’s all there was to it really.” He shakes his head, “It wasn’t worth it to stay anymore…not after what happened to you. There…there were videos, Buck. I saw it all.”

Bucky nods, “You have nightmares. Sometimes you shout things. I guessed you might know more than you let on.”

“I’ll always be sorry. It’s my fault they took you at all. If I had just gotten up-,”

Bucky pats Steve’s shoulder, “Nothin’ you coulda done. They would have killed you and then who knows what would have happened.”

Steve lets out a shaky breath and then smiles, “It’s getting easier to believe.”

“You did get up. You got up and you came for me. Mighta taken a bit but you did. You never did know when to stay down,” He jokes.

Steve laughs and punches Bucky’s shoulder lightly, “No I guess not. It’s either my best quality or my worst one.”

Just then the door opens, revealing Peggy and Sharon and Artie, laughing and laden down with shopping bags. They stop when they spot them on the couch together. “Everything okay boys?” Artie calls, smiling but worried.

“Everything’s fine, doll,” Bucky says. He stands and motions her into the kitchen where they find a place that they’re invisible to the others, cocooned in their own small world. He pulls her into his body, burying his face in her neck.

“How’d it go, babydoll?” She asks, rubbing his back gently. He only nods against her as a response. “Yeah, I figured. You wanna go home and watch some movies, warm and snugly? I’ll make something to eat and we’ll just loaf. Maybe take a bath?” Her fingers trail up his back and over his shoulders to his hair. Bucky knows she’s worried by how she’s rambling.

“I’m okay, Artemis. Really. I was ready.” She pats his shoulders as he kisses her hair before leaning in to whisper, “I do wanna go home though. I’m excited to see what’s in those bags, if it’s anything like it was for our birthday.” His hand drifts down to her ass to squeeze gently. “Let’s go home,” he whispers as his arm comes up to wrap around her waist.

She noses at the underside of his jaw, “Yes.”

 

~

 

Later that night they lay together in bed watching shit TV. Artie’s eyes are drifting closed as her head rests on Bucky’s stomach as his hand rubs circles into her shoulders and neck. A commercial for a bridal shop comes on suddenly and Bucky watches Artie’s reaction carefully. Over the last week he had been trying to judge her stance on the issue in small ways but nothing had yielded much useful information yet. He’s worried if he asks that she won’t be ready and it’ll ruin what they have. He would rather wait and make sure she’s ready then ask now and push her away. Her expression changes just slightly as she watches and Bucky finds himself asking, “Is that something you would want one day?”

She stays still and silent as the commercial ends and Bucky’s heartrate skyrockets. Artie looks up at him and smiles as she shrugs, “I’m not super concerned about it.” Bucky’s heart plummets into his stomach. _Shit_. Didn’t that fucking hurt? He’s ready to commit to her permanently, forever, legally, and she _wasn’t concerned_? “I mean…when you already have your person it doesn’t matter. It’s just a formality.”

Bucky is glad Artemis turns away to look back at the television as he can’t help but smile so big his face hurts. When he manages to control himself he pulls her up to him so he can kiss her. “What was that for, babydoll?” She asks when he pulls away to rub his nose against hers.

“Nothin’. I just love you.”


	36. Questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, babes! Please do leave your thoughts!!<3

Bucky has found the ring. Now he needs to ask her. But the _how_ is what he still doesn’t know. He shows the ring to all their friends and listens to their suggestions, but nothing seems quite right. Nothing seems to fit.

Bucky paces her apartment as he waits for her to come upstairs. She’s showing two new employees the ropes and he can hear Artie’s gentle laughter and the giggles of the two girls she’s decided to hire. Her footsteps sound on the steps before the door opens and Bucky jumps a foot in the air. Lady whines at him for startling her. “Hey Buck I want you to come meet the girls-Are you okay?”

He coughs, “Yeah, doll. Yeah I’m fine.” He starts pacing again. Bucky needs to ask her by the end of summer. He doesn’t know why, he just does. It feels like a deadline and its fast approaching, hell it’s already half ways through July. And he’s still-

“Buck?” She’s frowning at him again. Artemis is worried about Bucky. He’s been distant lately, spending a lot more time at Steve’s and has become strangely secretive with her. “Come meet the girls?”

He stops pacing, “Oh, yeah, sure sweetheart.” Bucky kisses her cheek as he passes her to go downstairs. Artie stands for a moment in the doorway and takes a deep breath. She tries not to worry as her hand comes up to fist around Bucky’s dog tags. He made a promise to her didn’t he? Artie sighs and tucks the tags away as Bucky calls up to her.

Down in the café she introduces Bucky to the girls who shake his hand and make small talk, not at all bothered by his quiet voice. Artie knows they’ll do well with the people of the café. She knows they’ll do well with Bucky too, who’ll still be there full time. She’s proud of him, of how far he’s come but she’s also a little worried that this was it. Bucky’ll finally realize that he can do better than her, that there are others than her, and let her go. She feels him slipping away now as she watches him talk.

He’s barely touched her recently and looks nervous any time they're in the same room together. They’ve been through so much together, didn’t that solidify things or did it mean it’s easier to pull away once you have your feet back? The relationship negated by the fact that is was formed while they were both so vulnerable, especially Bucky. She swallows thickly and hopes her eyes don’t look too glassy when Bucky and the girls turn to her. Artie smiles and nods to whatever they’re saying. So much else is changing. Why not Bucky too?

 

~

 

He hears Artie sniffle sometime in the middle of the night. Bucky had decided to stay the night upon her urging despite his better judgement. He’s so nervous to ask her, so caught up in thoughts of _how_ to ask her, that he’s worried he’ll give something away. Or that he’ll be so caught up in her, in kissing her, or fucking her that he’ll just blurt the question out. And that is _not_ how he wants to ask her. She had come back from the bathroom earlier that night in a sheer silk slip, one shoulder strap falling down, hem of the garment just barely covering her round ass and Bucky had regretted his decision to stay immediately as it was so hard to say no to her looking like that. She had sidled up to him and pressed her fingers against his crotch, her eyes lustful, nipples hardened and poking through the soft material. And fuck, if he hadn’t wanted her, but something weighed on him and so he pushed her gently away and tried not to see her disappointed expression.

Three weeks ago they had been going at it so much that Tommy had complained that he couldn’t sleep from their noise, saying that they’ve been like rabbits since spring and he can’t much take it anymore. So, they had begun a challenge to see who could stay the quietest as the other tried to make them scream. They were insufferable to Tommy and Connor in the café, love-struck and gooey and doe-eyed. They would often sneak away upstairs or to a closet or sometimes just the steps not being able to make it any further than that. There was laughing and there was love and Artie was happy. She thought Bucky had been too. Then one day it stopped and they haven’t had sex since. Bucky hasn’t really touched her since, hasn’t kissed her or held her hand or pulled her into his side. And anytime Artie tries to initiate these things he pulls away. And he had done it again tonight.     

She sniffles again and Bucky sits up. “Artie?” But she doesn’t move, only stays quiet and pretends to sleep, “I know you’re awake, doll.”

“What does it matter?” Her soft voice floats over to him.

Bucky’s heart flutters in his chest. Of course it mattered. Of course her distress mattered. “Hey…what’s wrong?”

She doesn’t answer for a long time before she rolls over and reaches for his hand. He pulls away and she frowns, “ _That_. _That_ is what’s wrong, _Bucky_.” He opens his mouth to say something but she cuts him off, “If this isn’t what you want any more just tell me. I’ll understand. But please don't lead me on.” Artemis rolls away again and gets out of bed, wrapping her arms around her middle, looking very much like she might fall apart if she lets go.

“Artie-,”

“You don’t have to go home. I know it’s late. I’ll stay with Tommy tonight okay? Get some sleep,” she says as she opens the door.

“Artemis,” he’s up and across the room, pushing the door closed, in seconds. “No. You’ll stay here with me. We’ll stay here together.” Bucky starts to reach for her but she pulls away.

Artie shakes her head, “I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to-,”

“Fuck, Artie, I want to. I want to doll,” he shakes his head. How ironic that he’s planning to ask her to stay with him forever and she thinks he’s pulling away. “I love you. Please, sweetheart, I do. I’m right here.” He touches her arm as her face crumples.

“Then what’s wrong? What did I do? You don’t touch me, you don’t stay here anymore, you find any reason not to be alone with me-,”

And Bucky who can’t bare to see her in any kind of pain, who can’t stand to see her upset or hurt or in discomfort finds himself saying, “I’m trying to find the right time to ask you to marry me.”

She goes deadly still, big watery eyes staring at him, her mouth hanging open a bit. _Shit_. No. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He’s supposed to ask her in a cute, sweet, romantic way. The way she deserves. But the way she’s looking at him…

“Marry you?” She whispers. “ _Me_?”

Bucky’s gut swoops. She didn’t want to. She doesn’t want to but he hears himself saying, “Yes. And I was afraid I’d give it away and-,” he takes in her wide eyes and trembling lip and he knows a year worth of relationship building has just went down the drain. “I’m sorry. It’s too soon. I should have-,”

“Yes,” her voice is barely a whisper. So soft and gentle he almost doesn’t hear it. “Yes,” she says again. “Yes, a thousand times yes, my soldier. My Bucky.” She throws herself into him and he has to wrap his arm around her to keep her upright, “Yes, yes, yes, yes….” She says in between kisses pressed to his shoulders and neck and jaw. “Yes, Bucky, yes.”

He holds onto her and feels tears forming in his own eyes as he buries his face in her neck. “Shit, sweetheart, this isn’t the way I wanted to ask you. I don’t have the ring, it’s at Steve’s and…and…and I didn’t even ask you. I, shit, I’m sorry doll. You deserve so much better.”

Artemis pushes him away and Bucky almost loses it until he sees her face, smiling and happy and _glowing_. “Ask me!” She bounces up and down, still in that thin, little nightie that Bucky is now dying to rip off of her.

Bucky gets down heavily onto one knee and looks up at Artie who is vibrating with nervous anticipation. Her smooth creamy thighs are right at eye level, curves outlined perfectly, breasts perky and full. But his eyes are on her hand which he takes and kisses and for a moment he doesn’t say anything as he thinks about this time last year and how far he’s come, how far they’ve all come. He never thought he would get this far, never thought he would leave that hospital, thought he would die there.

Artie steps forward then and wraps her arms around his shoulders as he leans his head into her stomach. For a long time they stay like that just holding each other until Bucky pulls back to look into her face, “I don’t have the ring.”

“That’s okay,” she strokes her fingers through his hair then trails them down his jaw before pressing her thumb into the cleft in his chin. “If you didn’t have one at all it wouldn’t matter to me.” Her thumb slides over his bottom lip and he knows Artie is dying to kiss him. “Ask me.”

He chuckles and takes her hand again, “Yeah, sweetheart, okay.” Bucky clears his throat, “Artemis Shelby. I love you so much. I want to be with you forever. I want to protect you and take care of you and love you forever and forever. And if you’ll let me do that…you’ll make me the happiest man in the world. Artie, I love you, and I never want to be away from your side. We make a good team, you understand me and accept me and even though I don’t deserve you I hope one day I’ll earn it. Would you do me the honor of marrying me? Of becoming my wife and letting me stay with you forever and beyond that?”

Artemis lets out a choked sob and falls to her knees in front of him, wrapping her arms around his neck and shaking with happy tears. “You ass. You didn’t need to plan anything you have so much sweetness stored up in you it makes me sick. I love you. I love you, babydoll. Of course I’ll be your wife. Of course I’ll marry you. Yes. Yes, a million times yes.”

He just hugs her tight and lets out a breath, a tension he’s been holding in his body for three weeks, since he found the ring, leaving his body. “I’m still gonna do something sweet to give you the ring. But just knowing…that I’m not crazy…that this is happening, that you feel the same, Artie it means everything. You’ve brought everything full circle in my life. You brought me back.”

“ _You_ brought you back. You had to make that choice,” She pulls back to look into his eyes. “I love you. I’m glad you made the choice to stay with us.” Bucky leans forward to slant his mouth over hers. Having barely touched her for weeks Bucky is starved for her, for her touch and her taste and her gentleness. She opens her mouth easily for him, tongues swirling together as her hands cup around his neck, drawing him nearer. He wraps his arm around her back and pulls her upwards, her body warm and full against his, so easy to feel through the thin material of her clothing. She pulls back just enough to whisper against him, “I love you, my babydoll.”

He tugs up the hem of her nightie to feel the smooth skin of her lower back. “I can’t believe you agreed to be mine, doll. Forever, forever. I still feel like I tricked you or something,” he laughs as his hand moves higher up her back. She smiles and presses closer, fingers travelling over his body.

“No, never, babydoll.”

“I want these clothes off of you, Artie,” he whispers to her before pulling back to take her hand. Bucky kisses her left hand, her ring finger, “I can’t wait ‘til you have your ring.” Artie presses closer to him before pulling away entirely. She reaches down to take the hem of her nightie in her hands and lift it over her head.

Bucky smirks and then laughs when she tackles him in a hug, attaching her lips to his neck, sucking harshly. “C’mon, Artie,” he says as she lifts her legs to wrap around him and he carries her back to the bed. “My fiancée.”

 

~

 

Artie wakes several hours and many rounds later to find Bucky dead asleep beside her, mouth open, mild snores leaving him. She scrunches down in bed to his eye level, fingers threading through his hair, massaging gently. Her body is achy and weak from their activities which they hadn’t bothered being quiet about. Bruises cover her left hip from Bucky’s hand, and small love bites cover just about every other part of her. Bucky is in a similar state but both of them have been through so much they have little to no shame about being marked up.

Artemis traces the lines of his body gently while he isn’t awake to watch her while she does so. Bucky has gained weight, a lot in fact, and has become quite muscly. She traces his abs and then up to his collarbones, his neck and jaw as she squirms closer to him. Over his shoulder, down his back and over his hip, over his ass and down his thigh. And those _thighs_ …

Bucky’s arm suddenly wraps around her and pulls her close. “Doll,” he groans into her neck. “Why are you awake?”

“Lookin’ at how pretty my future husband is,” she whispers as her hands roam over his thighs again. He chuckles as her hands then skim the planes of his stomach. “Besides you love it. You love how much I like to touch you.”

He hums in agreement against her. “I do,” he says, voice rough and gravelly with sleep. “But I want you to sleep too so I can wake up in the morning and ravish you again before I take you to breakfast.”

“Bucky!” She scolds as she turns red.

He chuckles darkly and captures her mouth in a surprisingly chaste kiss, “Please, sweetheart?” Bucky nips at her top lip and then brushes his lips along her cheek. “I’ll do what you like best, hmm?”

Artemis leans forward and bites him none too gently right at the pulse point in his neck for teasing her. He gasps and jerks at the unexpected sensation as she lathes her tongue over the stinging spot, giggling as she does, “Anything for you, Buck.” She burrows down into his chest and sighs. “Are we telling everyone tomorrow?”

Bucky freezes and clutches her tighter. Their friends, of course, already knew that Bucky was planning to ask Artie but he wants to keep this new thing between them. They didn’t need to know just yet. “Or not…” she says carefully.

He relaxes into her, “No, I just want it to be between us for a few days.” Bucky mouths at her neck and then nuzzles into her, “Sleep,” he demands.   

“But I wanna touch you,” she whines. “I wanna feel you. Let me touch you ‘til you fall asleep, hmm?” Artie starts petting him gently, tracing and feeling and caressing. And Bucky, well, he can’t really say no.

He hums and settles in to let her do what she wants with him. Bucky is amazed with how far he’s come in trusting people. He remembers the first time Artemis unthinkingly laid her hand on his. How he had ripped his hand away and felt so nauseated it had pained him and made him feel dizzy. Now he could lie next to her, buck ass naked no less, and let her touch him however she wanted without feeling anything but pure bliss and happiness. His trust in Artemis complete, his love for her sure, and his place in her life certain. Bucky hopes she feels the same things with him.  

 

~

 

The next morning Bucky keeps his promise and fucks Artemis exactly the way she likes. He has her panting within minutes, his mouth doing everything she likes, working miracles on her clit. “Bucky-y,” she pants, “If-f, fuck, if you don’t fuck me now we won’t make it to breakfast on time.”

He pulls away, mouth wet and delicious, and drags his face against the inside of her thigh, the stubble from his face giving her a delightful sensation there. “’m havin’ breakfast right now doll.” He grins at her and goes back to work as he reaches around to slide two fingers into her.

Artemis grips his hair as her back arches off the bed. She tugs as hard as she dares until Bucky whines and comes away from her body. “Fuck me,” she growls when he meets her eyes. He grins and lies next to her, “Oh, nuh-uh, you ain’t gettin’ shit if you think I’m gonna ride you at this hour-,”

“Shut up and c’mere,” he says with a laugh. He knows she’s positively aching at this point and needs her release soon. He pulls her onto his chest and sinks into her as he stares into her eyes, but she can’t much focus on him as her eyes roll back and a moan leaves that soft, full mouth. He wraps his arm around her back, “Just lie against me, doll.” She does, draping her arms around his neck as she continues to gaze into his eyes before Bucky begins slowly thrusting up into her. “See,” he grunts. “Just like riding me without doing any of the work,” he says and then gives a ruthless thrust, knocking her nearly to the edge of her pleasure. “You’re so lazy, doll.”

“You, ugh, like it, you bastard,” she pants, her voice a breathless breezy tone.

Bucky kisses her roughly, “Yeah, I do.” He jerks and groans as she lowers her mouth to his chest and circles his nipple with that sinful mouth of hers. She flicks her tongue over the now sensitive area as his hips start to jerk, Bucky remembering the sensation on his dick earlier.

“Somebody gonna cum before me again?” she whispers to him. “Selfish, Bucky, I mean-,”

He encourages her back a bit before he reaches down to rub her clit harshly as he inclines his head until his mouth is next to her ear. He swirls his tongue there, delighted by the surprised squeak it inspires. “Cum,” he makes his voice as authoritative and deep as he can. “Cum, Artemis.” Artie clenches around him and just like that, easy as that she cums all over him.

Bucky’s hand leaves her clit and continues thrusting into her when, “James…” Her voice is so languid and fucked out and sensual that his orgasm suddenly hits him like a ton of bricks. Artie smirks against him, knowing exactly what she’s just done, feels him spurt into her and notes that it’s probably the longest she’s ever felt from him.

Minutes later when Bucky comes back to her she stops her ministrations of kissing his body and reveling in the feel of him softening within her to gaze into his eyes. “Say it again,” he whispers.

She leans her forehead against his, “James.”

“Again.”

“James.” She giggles then, “Who would’ve thought you have a first name kink?”

Bucky only laughs, his heart swelling with love.

 

~

 

Bucky does take her to breakfast where she allows him to order for both of them, an all American breakfast loaded with sugar and calories as he’s convinced she needs them after how many rounds they went last night _and_ this morning. She chats with their waitress a while, having complimented the teenager’s short purple bob.

Bucky just watches Artie, her smile, her kindness. She only wears some jean shorts, combat boots and a shirt that he thinks is definitely his from the night before. The sun shines in the front window of the small, crowded restaurant setting everything in a warm yellow haze. The color and lighting making Artie look as though she has a halo of sunlight around her head.

Never, he thinks, has any person dead or alive had such good luck as him. His thought is confirmed when she turns to him and smiles as his tags fall out of her shirt. She takes his hand and kisses his palm and Bucky can’t look away. He’s never felt so light and full of happiness.

Because, goddammit.

He can’t wait to see that ring on her finger. Yes, he thinks proudly, she said _yes_.    


	37. End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading, y'all. It's been a real pleasure. I hope you liked reading this as much as I did writing it. Let me know what you think about the ending! Also I was thinking about doing a mini-series about their life after this. Let me know if you guys are interested. Much love guys <33

“Bucky, I swear, what is goin’ on-,” The blindfold over her eyes makes her feel more than a little exposed and claustrophobic, a mixed odd feeling.

Bucky chuckles and keeps his hand on one of her shoulders, guiding her down the street. “Quiet doll, we’re almost there.”

“People probably think we're crazy!” she exclaims and then smirks, “And we’re at the café.”

Bucky blanches, “How the hell do you know that? I spun you around about sixty times three blocks from here!”

“I walk from that grocer where we were stopped twice a week. I would know this route anywhere.” She pauses and giggles as Bucky pulls her to a stop. He’s nervous. He hopes this is alright, that it’ll work out. It had, after all, took planning and coordinating all of their friends. “What’s with all this showmanship Buck? I’ve already agreed to be your wife.”

“Well that’s exactly it, sweetheart. You agreed and you don’t even have a ring.” He pauses, a little disoriented that he’s having this conversation at all. “Besides I thought it was every girl’s dream to get a big diamond,” he jokes as he fumbles the key into the lock.

Artie frowns and crosses her arms, still blindfolded. “Oh so now I’m just any other girl, huh? Some passing fancy? Oh, Buck, I thought you truly loved me-,” She presses the back of her hand to her forehead in a dramatic sigh. Bucky rolls his eyes and guides her into the café.

Bucky pinches her side before closing the café door and locking it. He wraps his arm around her middle and skims his nose along her ear. Warm breath hits her cheek as he says, “I love you. Sorry I had to kidnap you a little. I promise it’ll be worth it.”

She reaches up behind her to fist her hand in his hair, guiding him to meet her lips as she cranes her head around. “Really though Buck, you know I’m not one for extravagant things. I don’t even really wear jewelry,” she says when they pull apart. “Can we take this blindfold off?”

“You don’t like it?” He knows he wouldn’t exactly be comfortable with the whole not-seeing-at-all thing.

She squirms, “It’s making me a bit…anxious.”

He chuckles against her, “Sorry, sweetheart.” He turns her gently until he knows she’ll have the scope of the room when the cloth is taken away. “I’m gonna take it off now, Artie.” Bucky watches her dance in place a bit. The excitement in her face and the tension in her body is clear, she wants this, wants the ring, wants _him_. Fingers wrap around his wrist as Artemis bounces eagerly.

“Bucky! Quit teasin’ me!” Her smile is wide and happy. “Please, babydoll? C’mon!” And he grins and reaches up to pull the ribbon loose, dark gray material falling to the ground. She smiles wide before the room before her fully sinks in and her mouth falls open in shock. A soft gasp leaves her mouth. “Buck…”

The room is covered in the soft glow of fairy lights, strung from the ceiling and trailing down to the floor. All the other tables are gone but for one covered in a gold tablecloth and set beautifully with tableware definitely not from the café and significantly less battered. There’s one candle, not yet lit and soft music playing. And on the table-

“Roses? Bucky I thought you wouldn’t ever buy me roses?” She turns and grins and he knows he’s done the right thing. He had asked Tommy about Artie’s favorite flower and had been horrified to find out that her favorite flower is indeed, roses.

He leans forward to bump his forehead against hers, arm winding around her waist. “I heard it from a good source that they’re your favorite.”

Artie’s fingers drift up to his chest, right over his heart, right where they belong. “What was all that noise about never buying me roses and how I’m too good for ‘em and-,”

“Well actually I had Steve go get them.”

She punches his shoulder lightly, “Ass!”

A soft kiss is pressed to her mouth, light and loving and teasing. “’m just kiddin’ doll. I got ‘em cause you love ‘em and I love you and so there they are.” He pinches her side playfully before burying his face in her neck as she laughs. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I am, my pretty babydoll.” She laughs, “Now what’re we doin’?”

Bucky perks up at that, “I got a whole plan, sweetheart. We’re gonna eat and talk and I’m gonna learn everything about you that I don’t already know-,”

“ _Everything_?” She asks disbelievingly.

“Hush, I ain’t done yet.” He smiles and hugs her closer, “And we’re gonna take a walk _somewhere_ , maybe get a cab _somewhere_ -,”

She giggles and presses her mouth to his neck, “This isn’t a very detailed plan. I didn’t know you were a cheesy romantic either.”

He groans exasperatedly and leads her to the table, pulling out her chair and lighting the candle before dashing to the kitchen. She sits and admires Bucky’s effort for a moment, smelling the roses and stroking the tablecloth, soft and smooth beneath her fingers. Bucky comes back from the kitchen and she nearly cries. Bagels and muffins and cupcakes from Bucky’s favorite bakery and pound cake and lemon cake and brownies and-

“Bucky you’re gonna rot our teeth!” But she’s smiling and giggling as tears streak her face. He sits the platter down as she asks, “Coffee?” The pastries and the coffee had brought them together, connected them for a long time before they realized they didn’t need that excuse to see each other anymore.

Bucky leans down until his lips brush hers, “ _Yes_ ,” he whispers against her. “Of course. Of course, my girl.”    

 

~

 

Artie waits for Bucky to give her the ring all evening. After eating themselves sick Bucky takes her on a walk around their area of the city, to a bookshop and a thrift store and an antiques place, talking animatedly the whole time, smiling so big and so much she thinks his face _must_ hurt. She listens and laughs and waits patiently for a ring that never comes, through the dusty bookshop with an old man as its protective keeper, down aisles of antiques and knick-knacks, and finding funny, interesting clothes at the thrift shop. Eventually they catch that cab Bucky mentioned, Artie only a little stunned when he asks to go to Coney Island.

Then she realizes.

He’s doing their ideal dates, orchestrating them both together in an interesting fashion. So, naturally they get ice cream to share and walk along the beach as the late August sun starts to set. Bucky keeps her close, a firm grip on her hand when she insists on wading into the water a bit. Bucky worries and worries and worries as she drifts farther from him until her fingers slip from around his but then she turns and smiles and falls back into him and everything is okay again, everything is perfect and wonderful. Because she’s there, because she’s his, because he loves her. Her body warm and soft against his as they stand in the water and the ocean kicks up spray around them, coating their skin in dewy, salty wetness.

And then they sit on the beach and watch the sun set as Coney Island lights up behind them, neon lights shining as teenagers giggle and find soft spots in the sand to neck. Bucky thinks this is the right spot. He had planned to take her to the top of the Ferris wheel and give her the ring there but now…sitting on the beach in the sand, the loud ocean stretched out before them in their own little bubble of velvety darkness. He thinks that this is _right_. Where he’s meant to give it to her. It’s calm and shadowy and private and Artie is humming gently, her face pressed into his shoulder. The flashy echoing noise and activity of Coney Island is decidedly not them, not their style. This, this calm lightness, cool happiness is what they mean to each other and so this is perfect.

Artie wiggles into Bucky’s side, toes in the sand enjoying the wind off the ocean and his warmth next to her, completely oblivious to Bucky’s thoughts beside her. Artemis giggles as she watches a girl press her girlfriend back into the sand to kiss her. Laughter and wetting kissing noises and the wind off the ocean surrounds her, lulling her into Bucky. Her humming ceases and she asks, “Wanna make out Buck?”

He laughs and pushes her back to hover over her, “Aren’t we a little old to be kissin’ on a beach?” Bucky’s nervous now, about the ring, about his choice. But she’s so beautiful below him that it’s chased away just a little.

Her fingers lace behind his neck, playing with the baby hairs there, “We’re only as ancient as we feel, old man.” So, he dips down to kiss her, a smile on his face as the tide rolls in and out, water roaring in his ears. Artie’s mouth is wet and soft, hot and full, and she tastes like sea salt and ice cream and just a hint of lemon cake. Fingers tug downwards until Bucky falls from one hand down to his forearm, the length of his body pressed into hers. He feels every line and curve of her, hips and thighs and knees, stomach and shoulders and _lips_. Lovely soft, plush lips that mold exactly to his. Lips that he could kiss forever like this, slow and soft and gentle but he’s gotta feel other parts of her so he moves to her neck carefully kissing her there exactly the way she likes, soft and sweet with little bites thrown in. Her hands in his hair spur him on as Artie massages his scalp, comforting, the hands of someone who knows him and his body.

Her fingers suddenly tug him gently back and Bucky whines, trying to lean down to her, to hear her make that lovely little moan again. Artie keeps just out of his reach squirming slightly, palms pressing against his ribs and shoulders before those lush lips press to his ear and whisper, “Am I getting my ring?”

Laughter bubbles up out of Bucky unexpectedly as he sits up and pulls Artie with him, sand sticking to the back of her shirt. He plops down on his ass and pulls her into his lap. “Got your ring right here, doll.” He hesitates, hand on his pocket and looks over, “I feel like I gotta ask you again-,”

“Yes,” she says immediately. “My answer will always be yes.” She winds an arm around his shoulders and settles there, head balanced against his. He can feel her eyelashes against his temple as he starts to pull the ring from the pocket of his jeans.

He hesitates again, anxiety settling in his bones, “It ain’t nothin’ fancy doll,” he explains himself worriedly. “I-I, uh, I wasn’t sure what to get y’know since you-you don’t wear jewelry and I want you to _want_ to wear it y’know? I want you to be comfortable and-,”

“Bucky?”

“Yes, doll?”

“Give me the damn ring.” She says with a smile before she turns her face and kisses him lightly at his temple, “I’m sure it’s perfect, babydoll. You always put so much thought into everything. It’ll be exactly right.”  

A smiles breaks out over his face as he nuzzles her cheek, “Okay, sweetheart, okay.” He pulls the small box out and carefully deposits in her hand, the smooth black velvet soft against the calluses of her hands. She takes her other arm from around Bucky’s shoulders so she can cup them around the small box. Artemis wiggles in excitement as Bucky wraps his arm around her middle.

“Now remember if I hate it I still love you, maybe just a tinsy-bit less but I’ll love you all the same,” she jokes as Bucky groans and buries his face in her neck, teeth scraping against the sensitive beard burned area, from his earlier kisses, gently in reprimand.

Artie laughs and pops the top of the box open. She pauses, breath stopping for just a moment as she stares at the ring. Bucky watches her face, rapt with attention until she turns and says a little dazedly, “You’re supposed to put it on your girl you know?”

Bucky plucks the ring out of the box and takes her left hand, kissing her palm and then her ring finger before sliding it home. She leans into Bucky and holds her hand out in front of her, the diamond sparkling in the light from the fair behind them. “Looks good on you, Artie,” he murmurs into her neck. “Real good.” Look how far they’ve come, he thinks. He’s getting married to a woman who loves him despite his flaws and baggage, the promise of _always_ now materialized right there on her hand.

The band is plain silver and the diamond small and dainty, cut into a small glittering circle. It’s unobtrusive and simple and Artie loves it. Bucky mouths at her neck as she continues inspecting the ring before a soft gasp leaves her and Bucky knows she’s found it. She had taken it off again to really look at it not expecting the engraving on the inside of the band in tiny, miniscule script. _Forever, Forever,_ it reads, in Bucky’s handwriting.  

Artie slips the ring back on before she throws her arms around Bucky, “I love you, Buck. So, so, _so_ much. Thank you, thank you for knowing me so well. I love it, it’s perfect.”

“I love you, Artemis,” he whispers. “So much and for forever, doll.”

 

~

 

Artie’s in the mood to be coddled that evening and Bucky takes complete advantage of it. Petting her and running his hand through her hair, smoothing his fingers down her spine and over her hips, massaging sex-sore muscles and generally just caring for her, delighting in the happy purring noises emanating from her and admiring the ring on her finger.

Her usually stiff body is soft and pliant in his arms, completely relaxed and at ease. Her body is still sweat-slicked and they’ve yet to clean themselves up but Bucky can’t much be bothered about it and he doubts that he could get Artie to move if he tried.

He wants to go again but she’s so sleepy and cuddly that he probably couldn’t convince her to. But then she takes her heavy head off of his chest and whines at him, “My beautiful fiancé, my lovely babydoll…I need you.”

“What do you need sweetheart?” Her eyes are still a bit unfocused and pleasure heavy, mouth red and swollen and beautiful. He traces her mouth before taking her chin in his hand.

Her eyes are heavy lidded as she says, “You. Whatever you’ll give me.”

She squeals when he flips them and attaches his mouth to her, anywhere he can reach, chest, neck, shoulders, lips. Their laughter and moans mix evenly, their comfort with each other complete, safe and home.

Bucky gives her everything and then some. Artie does the same for him.

 

~

 

“We are _not_ doing cheesy first day of school pictures,” Artie states as Sharon rolls her eyes and lowers her phone. Tommy grins like a little kid and pulls Artie closer, excited about going back to school.

“Oh, c’mon Miss. Artie! My Ma makes _me_ do ‘em every year and I don’t complain,” Sophie reprimands from her place on Bucky’s lap.

Bucky smiles and ruffles the little girl’s hair, “Yeah Artie don’t throw a fit.”

Tommy pinches her side, “For me Artie? I know you hate pictures but c’mon it’s our first day back at school together.” Puppy dog eyes follow this statement and Artie groans.

“Fine!” Comes her heated reply as everyone cheers. Bridget and Leah, the new hires to the café, raise their arms and wiggle on the spot in a happy dance as Steve and Peggy laugh at Artie’s grumpy face. Bucky knows she’s only making a fuss because she’s nervous about her first day and about being separated from Bucky. “I hate you guys,” she huffs as Sharon snaps photos.  

“You love us,” Sam states, arms crossed over his chest.

“Maybe a little Wilson but a lot less after today,” she grumbles. Bucky pushes Sophie gently off his knees as Sharon gets done taking photos. Sophie bounces around the café, talking to whoever will listen as Tommy and Artie prepare to leave.

Steve and Peggy wave goodbye, wishing Artie luck before heading back to work hand in hand. Bucky wraps his arm around her, body relaxing into his immediately as she releases a quiet breath. “It’ll be okay doll. I’m going to be okay and so are you. Me and the girls have the café covered and you’ll have a good day.”

She rubs her face into his chest, “I know, babydoll.”

“You can call if you get nervous. I’ll answer. Tommy’ll be with you besides.”

“I know,” she looks around and notices Sam still hovering by the counter. “Sam?”

He rolls his eyes and comes closer, “I’m trying to have a moment but you two are too busy devouring each other to notice.” He clears his throat as Bucky glares at him and pulls Artie closer, “I just wanted to say…as your therapist and friend…you have both come so far, done so well. And I am very proud to be your friend and to have helped you get here.”

Artie wrenches away from Bucky before she runs around the counter and crushes Sam to her in a brutal hug, overcome with emotion. “Thanks for being such a good friend, Sam. A good therapist.”

“Thanks Sam,” Bucky says suddenly, uncharacteristically gentle with Sam. “Really.”

“Don’t go getting sappy on me Barnes,” Sam says as Artie wipes her eyes. “You mind if I ask what you’re gonna be studying?” He asks as Artie moves back to Bucky’s side her arms finding their place around his now bulky middle.

She grins as Bucky kisses her head, “Psychology.”

Sam looks startled, “No way!”

“Way!” She says excitedly and Bucky laughs. “I think I have a good handle on it already and I always wanted to be just like you Sam.” Her voice is only a little sarcastic at the end.

“Oh yeah? And what is it that I do?” His smile is peaking through, not often did cases end this well. This is why he does the job, for these moments right here.

“You help soldiers like us, soldiers like you,” she says simply. “And I want to do that too.” Sam’s throat feels a little tight as Tommy yells for Artie to hurry or they’ll be late. “Right babydoll?” She asks, looking up to her future husband with a grin.

Bucky looks down at Artie, at her ring, at her angelic face, sees her scars inside and out, her naked body twinning with his, and the healing that they’ve both went through over the last year. His scars mix with hers in his mind as though they've always been one. He’ll never let her go, not ever, and her chosen career path could not have been more suited to her. Artemis is kind and compassionate and caring and she already did so many of the things that therapists do. She’ll do a lot of good and continue healing in the process and so will he. They’ll do this together, get through it together, like they have for the last year. Bucky thinks about his own progress for a moment as he stands in a crowded room at ease and easily holds polite conversations with anyone that comes in, something damn near impossible a year before.

“Yeah,” he whispers to her, fingers rubbing her back soothingly as he looks into those big, kind eyes, “Soldiers like us.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic. Any and all feedback is appreciated! Please be gentle with me. Thanks for reading!


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